


Warrior Elf

by Nessa_T



Series: The Prince of Mirkwood [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessa_T/pseuds/Nessa_T
Summary: Nine there were when they first left Rivendell but was now reduced to eight – Gandalf they lost in the Mines. The road to Mount Doom had been perilous and meandering, riddled with many battles, beasts... and temptations.





	1. Lust and Desire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm collating all the fics I have written over the last 10 years or so and moving it to AO3. :3 This is my FIRST ever fiction because I felt there were too many Aragorn / Legolas stories and not enough Boromir / Legolas. It was heavily influenced by Tricia Owen's Lure of the Ring, as I recall. 
> 
> And I refused to call a cock.... well, a cock. Soooo, enjoy all the euphemisms for "Pen0rs".
> 
> As always, do follow me on Twitter if you like :) @ShehaSidek

An overwhelming feeling of sorrow engulfed the company. Nine there were when they first left Rivendell but was now reduced to eight – Gandalf they lost in the Mines. The road to Mount Doom had been perilous and meandering, riddled with many battles and many foul beasts. But it was a road that proved necessary to take for the One Ring had been deemed, by the Council, to be the bane of all that lived in Middle Earth and it was with brave hearts that the Nine volunteered to partake the task.

Yet, all the heads were now bowed with sadness and fatigue. Even Legolas, who was usually light of heart, seemed to be greatly burdened, his eyes lowered and brows furrowed with thought. "Alas the day," he sighed, "that we must lose so great a leader in the cursed darkness of Moria. I fear that my heart had been true all along. It was a path we should never have taken."

Such uncharacteristic despair was there in Legolas' voice and the anguish that was reflected on his fair elvish face that the pain of losing their most dear friend seemed too terrible to bear.

Aragorn's eyes accessed Legolas, watching the clear display of emotions on this otherwise serene face and his heart contracted with pity. He laid a consoling hand on the elf's shoulder, feeling the tension beneath his fingers. Their eyes met, blue against gray and the pain that radiated from the elf's eyes threatened to unman him. Yet Aragorn said, "Be stout of heart, dear Legolas, for we must now make haste for the safety of the woods of Lothlorien. It will be as Gandalf desires were he still standing amongst us" 

With a last backward glance at the death trap that was Moria, they fled into the wilderness.

 

They kept up a grueling pace for three days and three nights and it was on that third night, reaching the edge of a forest that Aragorn decided that they must stop to get much needed rest. It was something that they could not do for a long period of time for they were always in danger of being spotted in the open fields. 

The Hobbits lay gratefully down under a tree, making a bed of dead leaves and soft moss, falling asleep immediately, lulled by the sound of the trees rustling its leaves in the breeze. Gimli leaned against a trunk, hands folded on his chest and eyes closed in the quiet bliss. Only Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas remained awake, the Men too tense to sleep and the Elf, needing none at all. Legolas relieved himself of the burden of his weapons, carrying only his knife and wandered away from the company to savor the cool green feel of the forest especially after being in the dark, damp of Moria. Aragorn watched the Elf's retreating back thoughtfully, smoking his pipe.

"An amazing creature, the Elf," broke in a deep voice, laced with an expression that Aragorn could not identify. His eyes slid to Boromir, eyebrows drawn together, but he just blew out a cloud of smoke and said nothing.

"Beautiful beyond mortal belief, yet distant and cold as the morning dew that settles upon the tips of leaves. On their faces, a ready smile upon their lips, yet they are as elusive as a dove that shies away from mortal touch. Can one ever fully understand them? Why, if he had not shown sorrow over Gandalf's departure, I would not have thought that he could feel at all!" Boromir drawled, his eyes never taking off the spot where Legolas was last seen before the Elf had disappeared amongst the trees. Tension could be heard in Boromir's voice, creeping around the edges of his seemingly nonchalant comment, and there was something else... The frown on Aragorn's brows deepened as he watched the other man clenching and unclenching his fists.

"I do not understand the urgency behind your words, Boromir, son of Gondor, nor your curious description of our comrade," Aragorn said in a measure tone, in his voice a subtle note of warning .Boromir turned to him and Aragorn could see a forced smile upon his face.

"Surely," he began, his eyes burning with a fire that Aragorn had never seen before. "Surely, Aragorn, even you are not immune to the Elf's beauty? I have seen the way you looked at him, your hungry eyes following his every move, your ears registering his every foot falls upon the ground. You desire him do you now?" 

A dark flush crept up Aragorn's neck and he opened his mouth to give a biting retort. But Boromir was not finished.

"Do you not yearn to press your lips against the delicate petals of his, to taste the honey of his tongue, to feel the strength of his body against yours? His blue eyes looking into your very soul even as you caress him, causing him to shatter in mindless ecstasy in your very arms? Tell me the truth Aragorn," said Boromir, his voice trembling with the now identified emotion; passion and pure animal lust.

With a snarl, Aragorn grabbed the other man by the collar of his tunic. "Take heed of who you speak of!" he bit out, his eyes boring into Boromir's. "Have you taken a leave of your senses? Legolas is our comrade, not an object of your fantasies or an item to feed your own perverse desires!"

But his own words fell flat even against his own ears, for he knew deep within his heart, that Boromir was right. Long had he watched the Elf, his heart singing whenever Legolas chanced to look his way, smiling that half smile of his. Boromir, seeing the conflict in Aragorn's eyes, shrugged out of Aragorn's grasp and smirked.

"Perhaps," he said slowly, his smile widening insultingly, "it is you who have taken a leave of your senses if you think that you could live without sampling the treasures our beautiful friend have to offer." Aragorn dropped his eyes in defeat, and was silent.

 

The Elf stood on a rock, amidst the clearing, moonlight bathing his face. His every skin and hair seemed to glow with a soft light and an equally soft smile played lightly upon his lips. With his face turned towards the light of the moon, it was exactly how Boromir of Gondor found the fair Legolas, and heat rapidly surged through his very veins, warming his blood. He stepped forward from the shadows from whence he hid. The Elf turned, but was not startled by the intrusion.

"Does sleep elude you, friend Boromir?" he asked, his eyes a blinding shade of blue, seemed to look deep into the very core of the Man's being. He could not bear to look for long into those eyes, so frank and trusting. Instead, he turned away and shrugged.

"I will find no rest here," he murmured. There was a short silence and then Boromir felt the Elf approach him, first leaping lightly from his perch and slowly moving towards him. With every step, the Man's chest tightened almost painfully and his breath quickened. The Elf seemed to hesitate before resting a cool hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"You feel grief for Mithrandir," said Legolas quietly. "Perhaps I will leave you to your thoughts." He began to walk away but Boromir grabbed the Elf's arm, preventing his departure. Legolas started, his eyes flickered uncertainly to Boromir's. Gently but firmly Boromir drew Legolas close to his body till their noses were merely inches away from one another. Silence again, as blue eyes peered into the stormy green.

 

"Perhaps," Boromir said silkily, his blood rushing to his head at the heady combination of the light, masculine scent of Legolas as well as the brush of the Elf's tall, slender and strong body against his. His responding member throbbed with anticipation. "Perhaps," he continued, "I might be in need of company tonight." His eyes roamed hungrily over the exquisite features of Legolas and racked boldly over the contours of his body before resting over the spot where the Elf's leggings seemed to stretch across his groin, giving a slight outline of the Elf's masculinity. Legolas remained silent still, but his gaze was steady and watchful.

Trembling with a desire that he could not fathom, Boromir lifted his hand to stroke Legolas' face. His fingers brush against the finely arched brows, then traced the outline of the soft but unsmiling lips. Meeting no resistance, he grew bolder in his pursuit and those same fingers continued its pleasurable exploration down the while column of neck before resting to feel the pulse at the base of the Elf's throat. What he felt there filled him with a surge of anger – the pulse was completely calm as contrasted to Boromir's own racing heart.

"I do not know what it is that you really want of me, Boromir," the Elf said evenly, his eyes now cold. "But I do not wish to partake in this mindless game of yours." With that, he walked away, leaving Boromir absolutely seething with rage and desire.

With nary a warning, the Man launched himself at the Elf. Legolas turned quickly; ready to do battle but speed was no match for pure, brute strength. With a primitive growl, Boromir felled the slender Elf to the ground. The impact of Boromir's weight was incredible and all the air in the Elf's lungs seemed to escape with a great 'whoosh'. While Legolas lay on the ground in a daze, Boromir quickly gathered Legolas' arms, pinned it behind the Elf's back and after removing the knife which Legolas wore at his hips, turned him over and straddled him. They then faced each other, the Elf beside himself with rage.

"Let me up!" he hissed with cold fury, repeatedly bucking beneath Boromir, like a horse trying to unseat his rider, and at the same time trying but failing to free his arms. Boromir whispered sweet nothings into the Elf's ear, stroking his long hair, like a groom trying to calm his frightened steed but Legolas put up a terrific fight, twice nearly succeeding in his desperate attempt to escape. Finally, eyes narrowed, Boromir raised his great hand and smashed it across his captive's face. This he did repeatedly, savagely, but not a sound, not even a whimper escaped from the lips of the Elf. Abruptly he stopped, breathing heavily and looked down at Legolas. The force of the blows left ugly, red marks on the otherwise fair and unblemished skin. A trail of blood trickled out from his nose and yet Legolas' eyes registered no pain, just undisguised scorn and anger.

"So here lays the elf maiden," he taunted silkily, once again putting his fingers to Legolas' lips, softly stroking the bruised flesh. "Trapped underneath her captor." And with that, he allowed himself to toss his head back and released a short bark of laughter. It proved to be his undoing for Legolas reared up suddenly, smashing his skull against the bridge of Boromir's nose, causing the larger Man to loosen his hold of his victim. Desperately, Legolas' hand strained towards his discarded weapon that lay a few precious inches away from whence he lay, but Boromir recovered quickly and seeing the Elf's intent, swore profusely under his breath. Green eyes blazing with the fires of lust and anger, he grabbed Legolas by the throat, cruelly choking him,

"You wish to kill me Legolas?" he hissed, and pressed harder into Legolas' throat. The Elf gasped for want of air, eyes clenched shut and on his face, a grimace of pain. Eyes flashing Legolas returned the favor, his own hands curling around Boromir's throat. But the Elf's strength had been fast fading due to Boromir's previous treatment and gradually his hands slipped from Boromir's neck and flew to the ones at his own, trying urgently to tear at the constriction to his air passage. Boromir was relentless however and squeezed tighter.

"You wish to kill me Legolas?" he repeated, his voice softened dangerously as his eyes observed almost dispassionately at the twitching figure beneath him. As the Elf's eyes fluttered back into his head, his lips opened in a silent cry, Boromir leaned forward and press his lips against Legolas' ear and whispered, "You cannot kill one that have never been truly alive! I am cursed, Legolas and you will free me from that curse!"

With an oath, he released Legolas, shifted down the length of the Elf's trembling body and began tearing at buttons on Legolas' leggings. Ignoring Legolas' shuddering gasps as the Elf drew invaluable air into his tortured lungs, Boromir reached into Legolas' pants and drew out the long and elegant proof of the Elf's masculinity. He eyed it appreciatively and promptly lapped at it. Legolas gave an involuntary cry of dismay. "Nay!" he choked out and attempted feebly to push Boromir away. "Nay, stop this madness! You cannot touch me thus!"

Boromir answered with a kiss, sealing his lips over the drugging softness of the Elf's lips. Legolas opened his mouth to make his protests known but Boromir took the opportunity to slip in his tongue, tasting the honey in the Elf's mouth. It was as sweet as he had imagined it to be, and he groaned in rapture, lips assaulting the Elf's, taking him in every angle, tongue first tasting, then teasing and then claimed those lips for his very own.

He broke off the kiss and laid his forehead against Legolas', his hands running up and down the Elf's arms, trying to soothe his panic and prevent his renewed attempt at flight. The increasing dread was reflected clearly in Legolas' blue eyes and Boromir looked down at him with something akin to pity, yet he would not let Legolas go. Wrapping his fingers around Legolas' throat again, Boromir effectively quelled the Elf's struggles.

"Boromir," came the choked voice, its pleading tone was like a knife being pierced into Boromir's heart. "Please. No. More." Fingers trying once again to peel Boromir's unrelenting fingers away from this neck. Only when the Elf threatened to lose consciousness once again did Boromir released him and returned his administrations to the Elf's exposed member. Cupping its weight in this palms with something similar to reverence, he lavished it with his attention, first licking up and down the regal length of the Elf's hardening Elfhood and then slipping it into his mouth, eyes closed in contentment. His tongue seemed to work his magic upon the Elf for once again his eyes rolled back into his head but it was not one of pain but response to the exquisite torture that Boromir put upon him.

Legolas trashed around in denial, trying to elude the sensations that Boromir evoked in him. "Boromir! Saes! No more!" he gritted out, the expression in his eyes alternating between anger and awakened passion. But Boromir was not satiated. The Elf's member seem to disappear into the cavern of the Man's mouth and Legolas bit back a moan that threatened to spill out from his lips.

"Never," he thought determinedly, "I'll never succumb to this shameful feeling." But when Boromir's teeth grazed lightly over the sensitive shaft, his hips started to thrust forward on its own accord. His control snapping, Legolas grabbed Boromir's head and held it between his hands, controlling the movements. Delighted by the Elf's response, Boromir looked up and saw the awakened storm in the eyes of Legolas, whose desire was so clearly seen in the expressive depths. Desire made the Elf's eyes turn almost black and he panted with the strain of trying to control his raging passions. Boromir sucked at Legolas' root relentlessly until the Elf responded with the feverish thrusts of his hips, his back arching in reluctant surrender. When a low growl emitted from the throat of Legolas, Boromir with his own manhood straining against his breeches, allowed the now engorged shaft to slide out of his mouth.

Legolas gave a harsh sound of dismay at the loss of the wet warmth that encircled the source of his desire, but Boromir swallowed the Elf's protests with a searing kiss and began to strip off his breeches. Legolas watched with wide eyes has Boromir's member sprang free but did not protest when Boromir desperately disposed the Elf from the confines of his leggings. Pushing his willing captive onto his back, Boromir brought the Elf's knees towards the Elf's chest. Legolas waited with abated breath as Boromir held his eyes for a moment then bent forward to lap at the heavy sac that lay beneath the manly splendor of the Elf's member. 

Legolas gritted his teeth at the sensation and gave a lusty cry when Boromir found his opening and prodded at it with his tongue. The Man's tongue slipped deeper and deeper into the sweet entry of Legolas' body and Legolas writhed in ecstasy as Boromir worshipped him with his tongue.

"It will always be like this between us, if you allow it my fair Elf Prince. You do not know the power you have over me, your willing servant. I worship you!" Boromir said, his voice husky with passion. He reared up and positioned himself for penetration. Legolas' eyes held Boromir's – blue meeting green. Neither looked away and when Boromir slid in his weeping member into the Elf, Legolas' hips bucked at the extent pleasure and he nearly cried out from the sweet pleasure of it. Together they rocked back and forth, muscles straining to seek fulfillment.

The cords at Boromir's neck stood out and perspiration broke out as he strove to seek the summit of his pleasure. The Elf was tight and hot around his shaft, squeezing and massaging as it pressed in and out of Legolas' body. And then it happened. With a harsh bark of completion Boromir found his release and collapsed onto the Elf's quivering body.

It took a while before it registered in Boromir's befuddled brain that the Elf was still trembling beneath him. He raised himself up, supporting his weight on his arms and peered worriedly into the Elf's face. To his surprise, he found that the stormy passion that he saw in the Elf's eyes were not gone. Legolas' hips continued to shift restlessly, striving to gain contact from Boromir's groin in a desperate attempt to seek his own release.

Boromir's mouth dropped open and he would have been a little embarrassed at the realization that he had reached his fulfillment but had selfishly left his lover unfulfilled. He had forgotten that Elves were lusty creatures by nature and only the ones with the most stamina would be able to keep up with an Elf whose passion is as roused as Legolas.

"Forgive me, my Prince," Boromir said, giving a wry chuckle, his hand finding Legolas erect member. An emotion flashed across Legolas' eyes, something so fierce and terrible that Boromir nearly stepped back in fear. With a restrained snarl Legolas shoved Boromir forcefully, so much so that Boromir fell with a loud thud and light exploded behind his eyes. Dazed he opened his eyes to see that Legolas had stood up and loomed ominously over him, that fearsome expression still carved into his granite features. An odd calm settled over the Man as he closed his eyes and gave a fleeting thought that he would gladly die under the hand of one as splendid as Legolas Greenleaf.

But death did not come. Instead, when he opened his eyes, he found Legolas forcefully removing the remaining clothes upon his back and when Legolas turned to Boromir naked as the day he was born, Boromir could not help but gaze in awe at such perfection. A fine sheen of perspiration covered the Elf's magnificent body. Tall and strong as the trees in Mirkwood from whence he came from, Legolas was a sight to behold. Muscles ripples in his arms, chests and thighs with every movement and coupled with the Elf's shaft, standing like a soldier upon the battle field, Boromir felt himself hardening at such wondrous and wild beauty.

With another growl, Legolas fell onto Boromir, lips locked onto the Man's. This time he was the aggressor and the Prince would not be denied. Tongues meeting in a wild and heathen dance, Legolas tore at Boromir's confinements until the man lay naked and trembling beneath the Elf Prince's cool and calculating gaze. Legolas pressed Boromir determinedly into the grass, and Boromir hissed at the delicious contact of Legolas turgid nipples dragging against his heated flesh. 

With great skill and speed, the Elf managed to awaken the desires of Boromir's manhood, stroking and caressing life into the now hardening shaft. Boromir gasped and begged for release but Legolas was merciless. A small smile played across his lips but his eyes were hard and dangerous. Grabbing Boromir's root hard, he leaned forward his lips only just grazing the Man's nipples and with a sharp nip at its point, Legolas looked straight into Boromir's passion filled eyes. The Man looked back, helpless, and his hips moving in a desire to achieve release.

"You used force to make me succumb to you. And now I shall use force of my own to remind you that Legolas Green Leaf is not a toy you can play with and then discard when you tire of it. You will remember this night for a long, long time Son of Gondor." Said Legolas in a quiet voice, yet the hint of power and the promise behind the words alone could have cause Boromir to spend himself had Legolas not grasped his shaft so tightly.

The next hour was torture. Legolas lingered over the Man, teasing him to the brink and then retreating, extending the torment. "Take me!" Boromir gritted out, his head trashing from side to side. "I cannot bear it!" But Legolas ignored him. He put his finger into his mouth, licked it with relish, never taking his eyes off Boromir's who was shaking like a leaf blown in the wind. Legolas then slipped his finger into the entrance to Boromir's body. Boromir nearly screamed in pleasure as the Elf proceeded to tease him in a most interesting fashion, finding the spot deep in his body that he had no knowledge of. Boromir nearly wept at the havoc that his passions was creating upon his senses.

"Legolas, I beg you. Please." he said, not caring if there were tears in his voice. Legolas smiled, his beloved face both radiated power and compassion for the Man's plight. And he gave in.

Sliding his shaft into Boromir's he worked his magic again. Now rolling his hips, now thrusting it so deep that Boromir felt that he and his Elf are one. With each thrust, Legolas stroked Boromir's member in the same manner, timing each stroke perfectly so much so that with a cry of surrender, both Man and Elf sought their fulfillment together and lay on the ground, shuddering in each other's embrace while Legolas' name was played repeated upon the Man's lips.

"Legolas. My Elf warrior. How I worship thee," Boromir murmured and promptly fell asleep.

When he awoke several minutes later, he saw that the Elf was dressed and was sitting beside him, deep in thought, eyes fastened upon Boromir's. Boromir looked back uncertainly, the memory of what transpired between them coming back to him. There was a short silence before Legolas reached out to stroke the frown away from the Man's face, his expression unreadable.

"You do not know what you have done," he said quietly and with that ominous decree, he stood up and walked away, leaving Boromir to his own confused thoughts.


	2. Hope and Anguish

The wind blew coldly through the trees and before them, wide gray shadows loomed. If it were any other forest, such sights would have struck fear and terror in the hearts of Men, Elves or Hobbits. Yet, it was with eager hearts that the eight friends carried with them as they finally reach within sights of the woods of Lothlorien. 

"Lothlorien!" breathed Legolas, his voice, a prayer, his eyes shining with awe and supreme joy. In the gloom of the night, even the shadows of the trees seemed to reach out to them, beckoning them, their leaves glimmering under the starlight. With a sigh, Legolas fell on to one knee, his head bowed in gratitude and awe. 

The rest of the Company was not unaffected. The peaceful beauty of Lothlorien was a balm to their senses and Aragorn allowed himself to savour the feel of the wind blowing through his hair, and he felt all his fears and sorrows melting from his very bones – each breath seemed to cleanse his very soul and strength seemed to surge through his weary heart, willing him to carry on. A small, wistful smile was upon his lips. 

Legolas stood up; his head tossed back, his long hair fluttering in the wind. "Here lays the woods of Lothlorien," he said, addressing his comrades, his eyes sparkling with his excitement, "where the fairest of my people dwell. Let us hasten! Too long have we dwelt in sorrow that we forget how it feels to have peace residing within our breasts once more." And with that, his footsteps quickened, the fervor in his expression brought about renewed vigor in the tired limbs of his friends. 

Boromir smiled to himself, registering the light steps of Legolas as they pressed on towards the welcoming sight before them. It lightened his heart to see the Elf smiling once more, his eyes gleaming with anticipation of passing through the legendary woods of his kin. For several days, he had not been certain of the thoughts going through the Elf's mind for he had remained quiet and thoughtful, especially after the incident in the woods where they had rested many nights before... 

'You do not know what you have done.' The Elf had said and had left him afterwards, as guilt coursed though his body at the thought of having sullied what was once so pure and precious. But Boromir refused to feel regret over what he had done. How could he when the very thought of Legolas in his arms made his blood quicken and his heart sing at the memory of the embrace they had shared? 

Still, the Elf had changed after that night. His expression was carefully masked whenever Boromir chanced to speak to him, his eyes giving nothing away. He would not even look at Boromir in the eye, and it was something that brought about great anguish to the Man for he longed to have the Elf look upon him with the honest, trusting eyes that he had once bestowed upon him prior to the unfortunate encounter. He would not have minded even if Legolas looked upon him with contempt. Any emotion was preferable to the distance that Legolas placed between them. 

And yet, Boromir thought, and yet there were times that he felt that the Elf seemed to follow him, bright eyes watching him from a distance, while they trudged through the wilderness. Thoughtful and solemn eyes they were too, whenever Boromir chanced to glance at Legolas when he thought the Elf wasn't looking. And when they sat down to rest, he imagined Legolas' legs brushing against his, and when they lay down to sleep, he imagined Legolas sitting next to him... his eyes filled with something... something that Boromir could not name, dare not hope for... something that warmed Boromir's heart and make him long to weep for a caress of the Elf's fair hand upon his brows once more. 

'But it was just a dream,' Boromir thought, as Pippin gave a cry of delight as they entered, finally, into the very woods of Lothlorien. Thoughts of Legolas were temporarily erased from his troubled mind as he noticed for the first time the beauty that surrounded him. The woods consumed him, filling his senses with a heady perfume of the greenery. It was indeed a sight to behold. The trees were tall; their branches seemed to stretch up to the heavens. He smiled and when he glanced around, he saw the same smile upon his friends' faces too, Frodo looking happier than he had ever been, ever since they had lost Gandalf in the Mines of Moria. 

"We shall rest here. Orcs would not dare enter these woods for they are well protected by the powers of the Lady Galadriel," said Aragorn, as he relieved himself of his weapons and rolled his shoulders tiredly. Gimli gave a snort of disbelief, for he had heard many stories of the Lady of the Woods; none of them were complimentary. Aragorn just ignored him, but Boromir could see that the Ranger had a smile on his face which he had trouble concealing. 

The Company built a small fire and before long the air was scented with food and filled with the sounds of the chatter of the Hobbits and of Gimli engaged in conversation with Aragorn. 'They are probably debating over this Lady Galadriel,' thought Boromir with a smile. He had grown to be fond of the Dwarf's quick temper and his grumbling. His smile quickly faded as he felt Legolas settling down next to him. Not too near to be able to feel the heat that he knew radiated from the Elf, but near enough to make his heart skip a beat. Legolas must have felt him tense, for he gave Boromir a half glance before proceeding to stare into the fire once more. 

Aragorn felt the familiar stirrings of jealousy as he saw the Elf seated next to Boromir as he had done so many times before when they needed to rest. Legolas had rarely showed partiality to any of the members of the Fellowship and had almost always only talked to Aragorn about matters of the Elves and to consult him over something that was troubling him. And yet, there he was, a few feet from Boromir, not speaking but in the lines of his body, Aragorn saw the Elf's emotional inclination towards his friend. The Ranger wondered what had transpired between the two to have the Elf drop his defenses towards one who he had spoke against, in his anger, during the Council of Elrond. 

Suddenly, Gimli's conversation seemed to be bothersome and he felt more tired then he had ever felt before. He was just about to beg leave of it and suggest that they get some sleep when he heard Boromir gave a cry of alarm as Legolas sprang to his feet in horror and stood in front of Boromir, bow and arrow ready to fire at the invisible intruder. 'Daro,' came a voice from up the trees. Aragorn started, for he had not notice anyone else that would be watching them when they were busy making themselves comfortable. He paled visibly as he realized that this folly of his would have resulted in the danger of the Company's lives. His hand crept towards his sword, his mind racing as he tried to find to source of the voice, wondering desperately if it belonged to a friend or foe. 

Light laughter rang out, and Legolas dropped his weapon, his fear giving way to delight. "Haldir!" he cried out, joyfully. Aragorn once again was startled when three Elves dropping down from the very tree that he had been leaning against. 

Haldir of Lorien was a tall elf, pride lined his every features and his hair shone, reflecting the red glow of the little bonfire that they had made. With him are two other elves of similar looks and height and Aragorn knew that they were Rumil and Orophin, brothers to the handsome elf that was smiling at the Company. The Hobbits stared at the Elves for they had not seen any as fair as the three that stood before them, except, possibly Legolas, whose beauty stood out like a diamond amongst a band of gold. 

"Well met, Legolas! Too long had time pass since we last graced each other's presence," Haldir said, moving forward to lock Legolas in his tight embrace which the slender Elf returned. Boromir looked away, a grimace passing swiftly over his face. It did not go unnoticed to Haldir who smiled, maybe not a pleasant smile, as he regarded the Man with cool eyes. 

"I wanted to go by unnoticed while I try to find out whether you are friend or foe. But apparently you saw me, Human, and your surprised outburst had caused Legolas to lift his weapon against an old friend," said Haldir amiably enough, but in his eyes, Boromir saw a different story. 

Aragorn noticed the exchange, and rubbed his face wearily. He felt that he had aged twenty years looking at the youthful Elves before him, proud and beautiful. "Haldir," he began, addressing the Elf who had locked his eyes onto Boromir's. The Elf turned slightly around and noticed Aragorn as if for the first time. 'Too much unwanted attention is placed upon Legolas,' Aragorn thought to himself grimly as he saw Haldir turning around to his brothers, speaking softly in Elvish, words for their ears alone. As his brothers ran off, Haldir turned to Aragorn and smiled. 

"Son of Arathorn. Well met. I know what is it you want to ask of me, for the Lady of the Woods had told me of your desires for protection," Haldir said, pausing for a moment with a raised eyebrow as he waited for Aragorn to deny that fact. When Aragorn said nothing, Haldir continued. "Rest if you must. Tomorrow, I will lead you to meet the Lady Galadriel and her Lord." 

Legolas gazed into the face of his beloved friend, his heart singing with joy. Haldir had spoken to Aragorn a little more and after a consensus had been made, Haldir turned once again to him. His familiar, beautiful smile drew a similar one from Legolas' lips. Haldir moved towards him, and held out his hand, which Legolas eagerly took, registering his friend's firm grip upon his fingers. 

"Come my friend," Haldir said. "There is much we have to talk about!" Then, hand in hand, Haldir led Legolas away from his friends. Boromir watched Haldir walk away with his treasured possession, and it seemed that with every step that Legolas took that led him away from Boromir's side was as if every footfall was crushing his own beating heart. So acute was the agony at the sight of Legolas smiling into the handsome face of his 'lover' that Boromir closed his eyes, trying to block out the taunting face of Haldir's. 

'You are not worth the dust he walks on....Man,' came that voice in his head which he knew to be Haldir's. And Boromir knew, deep in his heart, that the Elf was right. But it did not make the pain any easier for him to bear. He stood up suddenly, and decided that tonight was going to be another night where he would not be able to find peace in sleep. 

 

Legolas and Haldir had been walking for some time, without any clear sense of direction before the larger Elf stopped and held Legolas by his shoulders. With a sigh, Haldir lowered his lips towards Legolas' and tentatively tasted them. His tongue slipped into the moist cavern of Legolas' mouth, tasting the sweetness of Legolas' own tongue, his lips stroking and seducing, coaxing Legolas into responding to his drugging assault. 

It seemed long to Haldir, before he realized that Legolas was not responding. He broke off the kiss and peered into the expressive blue eyes. The look in Legolas' eyes took his breath away. There was love, yes, but he also knew from that very look in those eyes that Legolas will never see Haldir as anything more than a friend. And the thought left a bitter taste in Haldir's mouth. 

'It's the man isn't it?' he said in Elvish. 'You have learned to care for him, although he had been nothing but ruthless in his pursuit of you.' Legolas remained silent but his eyes never looked away and instead holding fast into Haldir's own stormy ones. 

'Why did you give your heart to him Legolas? He is but a man, a mere mortal. He will never be good enough for you,' Haldir said, frustrated, his hands repeatedly running through Legolas' long hair and his face, as if touching him would persuade him to change the course of his heart. Legolas' steady gaze on his friends face confirmed what the other Elf had already suspected. 

'I do care for him Haldir, but it is not a burden to give my affections to him, no matter what you may think,' Legolas began hesitantly. He slipped out of Haldir's embrace, and walked several steps away from him and paused, as if trying to find words to justify the emotions he feels for Boromir. When Legolas met Haldir's eyes again, he saw heart-wrenching sorrow in his friend's eyes and it breaks his own heart for he knew that Haldir was devastated that he could not return the affections that was desired of him. 

'The Man is weak, yes. But in his weakness he sought to find strength within himself. It tortures him night and day to struggle with his desire for the ring and perhaps he confuses that desire with his own desires for me. I could feel that war and anguish within him, tormenting him although he is not aware of the extent of its control over his own mind and sanity,' Legolas said, pacing back and forth, almost talking to himself while Haldir's eyes followed his every move. He then stopped suddenly, his bright eyes upon Haldir's. If Haldir haven't fallen in love with Legolas, he would do so now, just because of the look that Legolas placed upon him. 

'He needs me, Haldir. I am his strength, his love, his life, his only hope and now I am bound to him, body and soul. It is a burden that I gladly partake for the Man is not without gentleness even in the summit of his passions. I know that I bring out the best in him for his eyes tell me so.' 

Legolas moved towards Haldir, a soft, sad smile upon his lips and he laid a hand upon his friend's cheek. Haldir covered that hand with his, and stared into those captivating azure eyes, blazing with emotion. 'He does not know what he had done. He does not know that by taking my body, he has gained my undying devotion to him, till Death itself comes to claim either one of us. It is my gift to him. I have sworn to protect him, to keep him from harm. I will become his Warrior Elf,' Legolas said, smiling as if reflecting on some fond memory. Their gaze held and after what seemed like eternity, Haldir allowed his lips to break into a reluctant smile. 

'Then I hope, my friend, that he will treat you well, and behave in such a way that is deserving of the affections of the Prince of Mirkwood, Son of Thranduil,' Haldir said, gathering Legolas into his arms again, this time in offer of friendship. ' Ah,' said Legolas, his eyes sparkling with amusement, 'I said that I will care for him and protect him. But I said not that he will behave in a manner that is appropriate towards a Prince. Perhaps I do not want him to be tamed just as yet.' 

The two friends laughed and Haldir kissed Legolas' lips in friendly affection. They sat down then, side by side, heads leaning against each other with familiarity, a small smile upon their fair faces. They did not notice someone sneaking away from the scene like a thief in the night. 

 

Boromir ran blindly through the forests. Danger or no, he had to escape the image of Haldir and Legolas together, arms locked in a tight embrace, as if they will never let go. Every step he took was a reminder of his own imperfections, his own flaws. This was why he was running away, because he knew that he would never look as Haldir did, like he belonged in the strong arms of Legolas Green Leaf. And at last, with a small cry of despair, he flung himself to the ground and pressed his cheek against the cool ground, his breathing ragged. There was little comfort for him in this loneliness; too small perhaps, to last for long, but it was comfort non-the-less. 

He turned around, his heart troubled and heavy; eyes stared forward into the night sky. The wind caressed his cheeks, the rustling leaves seemed to be a lullaby. And against all odds, Boromir found that he was so weary that when he shut his eyes, he drifted into slumber and as he did so, he imagined Legolas' face in front of his, those lips once again smiling that half-smile Boromir loved so much... 

Voices. Footsteps. And the hiss of metal brushing against armor. Boromir's eyes flew open and his hand moved instinctively towards his sword at his side. A hand gripped his, stopping its advance and he would have given a shout of panic had not a cool, but firm hand pressed against his open lips. 

"Hush," cautioned a voice. Boromir's eyes shot towards its source and he flushed when he saw Legolas hovering above him. He wanted to ask what the matter was but the wariness and apprehension in his Elf's eyes made him stop short. Legolas was crouching in a manner that he had seen before: it was a posture Legolas adopted whenever danger was near. The Elf's eyes turned this way and that, cocking his head to one side as if listening intently, brows creased in intense concentration. And then there it was again; those voices and footsteps that do not belong to elves or man. 

'Yrch,' hissed Legolas, springing up to his feet, on his face an expression so terrible and fierce that it took Boromir's breath away. He pulled the Man up to his feet and then backed up against the nearest tree, pressing their backs against it. Legolas was tense against Boromir's side as the foul voices of the Orcs seemed to draw nearer. Then suddenly, Legolas sprang to life and leapt up the tree nimbly. As he perched upon a large branch he extended his arm to the worried Man below. 

"Hurry," Legolas whispered, his eyes still darting about uneasily, "they are coming this way!" Boromir wasted to time in heeding the Elf's advice. He grabbed the extended hand and with surprising ease, the Elf pulled the heavier Man onto the branch with him. 

Their perch gave an alarming quiver but held fast, supporting their weight. Legolas again pushed Boromir against the tree trunk and hunkered down before him as if trying to conceal him from sight. Boromir could see the wisdom in that decision for Legolas was garbed in the colours of the forest and would be easier to conceal amongst the leaves rather then the colours of the garb that Boromir wore. They held their breath in apprehension while the Orcs finally came into view several stones throw away from them. 

There were many of them and Boromir knew that their lives depend on the effectiveness of their concealment for two virtually unprepared warriors were no match against a band of Orcs. Besides, they could not risk open war, for the lives of the Ring bearer would be in jeopardy and the ring itself would be in danger of being stolen. It was a thought that Boromir strangely could not bear. 

Legolas hardly seemed to move; his every limb as still as stone as he was locked in his crouching position, and the back that was presented to Boromir was straight as a rod and stiff as steel. The Orcs were moving directly under the tree that they were in and would they chance to look up, the two friends would indeed be discovered. 

Legolas slowly moved his back closer to Boromir until it made contact with the Man's chest. Boromir seemed to forget how to breathe, so tense was he in his fears of being discovered and so achingly sweet was the feel of Legolas' strapping form against his once more. The two were pressed so close together that they seemed to be one, for it was a matter of life and death, to make two figures blend as closely to the shadows as possible to avoid being seen. 

Legolas head seemed to turn this way and that, as if waiting for something or someone. And then their silent prayers were answered. A soft chirrup of an unseen bird was heard in a nearby tree. Legolas turned his head to the direction where the sound came from and answered back with a call of his own. The Orcs were oblivious to the exchange but Boromir saw what Legolas did see. Although the Man does not have the keen eyesight of an Elf, he could barely, just barely make out two figures crouching in the tree nearest to them – they were Haldir's brothers and their eyes were locked upon Legolas'. 

There seem to be an exchange of thoughts although no sound was made but a mutual understanding was achieved and the two brothers proceeded to create several distractions. They shifted in the trees, causing the leaves to rustle and the Orcs turned immediately to the direction of the sound. 

Reacting quickly, Rumil and Orophin began speaking in high voices, mimicking the voice of the hobbits and with astonishing speed they sped off into the night, leaping with extraordinary litheness from tree to tree, and the Orcs pursued their voices, cursing and growling as they ran off into the heart of the forest. 

It was a long while before the tension left Legolas' body and when there was absolutely no sound to be heard from around them, he turned around to face Boromir, relief etched into his beautiful features. He smiled, the glamour and intensity of it reaching deep into the Man's heart and seemed to squeeze painfully. 

"They are gone. Rumil and Orophin will lead them to a trap. None of the Orcs will come back alive," he said with a sigh, his eye held Boromir's in a steady gaze. The Elf was still pressed lightly against him and Boromir found that he could not look into the Elf's fair face and not feel wretched and miserable. 

"I think we had better return to our friends," Boromir murmured, looking anywhere but into the eyes of his Elf. Legolas' silent perusal of Boromir was disconcerting. Then without a word, he reached forward to run a hand through Boromir's matted hair. 

"You should not have been alone. It would have been dangerous. You might have been killed had I not found you in time," he said quietly, his eyes lowering sadly. Boromir turned an angry look towards the Elf. But Legolas did not cringe, instead, he held that gaze but without any expression. 

"And you would have gotten your revenge," Boromir said coldly, and tried to move away form the unsettling feel of Legolas' warmth against his body. Legolas' hand reached out once again to stop him, the Elf's eyes impaling him upon his gaze. 

"It will give me no pleasure to see you hurt, Son of Gondor," said the Elf in a soft voice that would have been lost in the wind had Boromir not been so close to him. But his eye never left the Man's face. Boromir closed his eyes in anguish and sighed long and loud. 

"Why do you torture me so? I cannot but look at you and I feel as if I'm strong and yet weak. I feel anguish in my very soul yet hope dwelled there as well. And you have only to barely touch me and I am falling apart. You are making me go mad!" he said wearily. The answer he got was firm lips covering his own and Boromir opened his eyes in disbelief. 

But Legolas continued to press warm, firm kisses upon the Man's trembling lips and when Boromir parted his lips to speak, the Elf slipped his tongue into Boromir's mouth. A moan escaped into the air, as Legolas pushed himself against Boromir's body, pinning the plaint form against the tree trunk, his hands cupping the bearded cheeks, deepening the kiss. Slowly, Legolas rubbed himself against Boromir's hard arousal like a cat, causing the Man to pant with suppressed desires. 

When it all seemed too much for him to bear, Boromir reluctantly tore his mouth away from Legolas'. "Haldir," he began to say but Legolas stopped him with another kiss. 

"He is nothing more than a dear friend to me," the Elf whispered as he bestowed soft kisses down Boromir's sensitized neck. Boromir gasped as the Elf's tongue lapped at the soft skin there and the Elf's knowing hands stroked the Man's throbbing member through its breeches. 

"But I saw you with him!" he choked out, trying to maintain a measure of coherence as he struggled to bite back a groan. Legolas stopped his sensuous assault on the Man's senses and regarded him in silence before a slow smile passed over his lips. Boromir narrowed that that suspicious-looking smile. 

"Ah, so that was why you sought to be alone," Legolas all but smirked in typical male self-satisfaction, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Boromir sulked, if it were not disrespectful to say that a grown man who have fought many battles to do so. 

"Yes. I did not think you wanted to be disturbed," he said sullenly, while his fingers unconsciously played with Legolas' long hair, glowing silver in the moonlight. The Elf laughed quietly and pressed his forehead against the man's. When he met Boromir's eyes again, he was relatively quiet but now on his face was another smile, warm and kind. Hope flared into the heart of Boromir. 

"But Boromir," Legolas said in a voice husky with passion. "You were the one who constantly disturbed my thoughts. Not Haldir. There was no need to get jealous," he teased. Boromir gave a mock gasp of outrage afore with a growl, he wrapped himself around his Elf, grounding his lips and body against his lover's strong form, his heart beating a wild, erratic tempo. The Elf returned his kisses, his head slanting first this way and then that, in an incredibly seductive manner, devouring the Man's lips, as if he wanted to swallow the Man whole. 

'I can't ever get enough of you, Legolas, my love,' Boromir thought in the midst of his passion. He felt Legolas stiffened slightly and he wondered if he had voiced his thoughts out loud. The kiss broke off and Legolas stared deep into the Man's green eyes. Boromir stared back, not realizing that all the love he felt for the Elf is reflected into the green depth. And there was confusion as well... and desire. Legolas' eyes darkened with response to what he saw before him and with a low growl in his throat, his nimble fingers undid Boromir's breeches. The Man's manhood sprang out and proudly stood at attention at the appreciative perusal of his lover's gaze and he had the grace to blush a little. 

But all pretense of decorum disappeared as Legolas lightly stroked the hard length, causing Boromir to quiver violently. It was only when he started panting and his back arched in a desperate attempt to reach his fulfillment that Legolas swiftly took off his own leggings with amazing skill considering that they were still perched upon the branch like birds. That very thought brought a grin to Boromir's lips and his laughing eyes met Legolas, who grinned back, eyes filled with mischief and laughter at the situation that they were in. 

But laughter turned quickly to moans of ecstasy as Legolas settled slowly upon his erect member, his opening squeezing and massaging the engorged organ, a clear proof of the Man's desire for his beautiful Elf prince. Their breathing quickened as Legolas began to move rapidly and determinedly up and down the Man's length, setting the rhythms of their love-making with a ferocity and hunger that fanned both their heightened desires. The branches quivered alarmingly in time to their movements. 

Every downward stroke of Legolas' opening to the base of Boromir's member was sweet agony, and although the Man's head bumped repeatedly against the trunk with the force of their union, it went unnoticed. All that matters was the building heat in his loins and that if Legolas slowed down or stopped, he would die... 

And then it happened; as it had many nights before. With a guttural oath, Boromir attained his release, and his Elf followed suit, his pace never slowing, lips opened in a quiet exclamation of wonderment. But with a final wobble of the branch, the lovers felt it tip them over and with a cry of surprise; they fell to the ground, unhurt but bemused. Legolas was the first to recover from the rude interruption to his own pleasure but stared opened-mouthed as the tree quivered once again and then gave a loud 'harrumph' of discomfort. It blinked its yellow eyes seemingly in a daze and then proceeded to stretch its roots, or rather, its feet and walked away from the scene, rumbling with displeasure. 

"I say, Legolas. I believe that was an Ent," said Boromir after a moment of stunned silence. The two looked at one another for a moment before allowing themselves to laugh merrily. And it was no wonder because there they were upon the ground: two warriors both alike in passion and spirit, breeches pooling at their knees, satiated for the moment after their torrid love-making only to be chastised by a tree. The situation was indeed ludicrous and they collapsed on the ground, positively howling with glee. 

Boromir then stopped suddenly, his eyes shining with a love that he could not restrain and opened his mouth to say so. But Legolas realizing his intent pressed his own mouth to Boromir's in a quick, chaste kiss, stilling the words that threatened to spill out. Boromir looked at Legolas with uncertainty, but the Elf just smile, his eyes telling the Man all he wanted to know even without words. There was more than hope after all: there was love. And it is something that will be cherished and treasured by Man and Elf alike. 

And with that thought warming their hearts and souls, hand in hand, they returned to their comrades and settled down, awaiting dawn in the woods of Lothlorien...


	3. A Cry in the Dark

Caras Galadhon. A city of the Galadhrim, where dwelled the Lady of the Woods. A place unequaled to any other places of dwelling with the beauty of its silver light and the soothing sounds of its running waters; the combination, a balm to the most troubled of minds. The Company had already laid down to rest, exhausted after their toil and the Council they had with the Lady Galadriel. But one Man was not contented in his heart as he kept pacing to and fro like a caged beast, waiting to break out of its confinement. 

Yet, it was not a physical prison that Boromir, Son of Gondor sought to flee from, but a shackle that existed in his very mind, taking hold of his sanity. Everyday, his heart grew heavier and dark were the thoughts that crossed his head as he struggled daily to rid himself of the shadow that clouded his senses. His brows creased into a frown and he gritted his teeth in an attempt to reign in his growing frustrations. 

'By the honor of Gondor,' whispered the thought, unbidden and unwelcome in the deep and secret recess of his heart, 'the Ring belongs to my people.' A grimace passed swiftly over his face before he quickly smoothed it away irritably. An anger that he could not control seemed to grip him, depriving him of air and he clenched his teeth together to stem that surge of fury in his blood. Gondor was weak, he thought, and it needs the strength that only the Ring of power could provide. The weapon of the enemy should have been used against it, not to be destroyed! Why could people not see the folly in throwing away something so precious? Why did people think that the Men of Gondor are not strong enough to resist its supposed evil? After all, true-hearted men, such as he, can never he corrupted by such a little thing. "Gondor needs the ring and to it the ring shall go," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a strange fire. 

"Boromir," a voice called out, breaking into his troubled thoughts. Boromir turned swiftly around towards the direction of the voice. He immediately tried to school his features into a semblance of a smile. It could have been successful had he tried to deceive any other person. But Aragorn was no ordinary man for he was quick to notice what many others could not, and in the larger Man's eyes, he saw something that chilled his bones. 

"Aragorn," Boromir replied, the strained attempt at a smile still evident upon his face, as a flush crept up his neck. His eyes were blazing with such a wild light that was unsettling to the Ranger. 

"You should rest, Boromir," said Aragorn, his eyes locked upon the other Man's. "These borders are well protected. It would be wise to take advantage of such rare and precious moment as this." 

A frown once again marred those proud features. "I will find no rest in this accursed place," he muttered, his lips compressed in an expression of disgust. So deep was he in the darkness of his thoughts that he became startled when a firm hand rested upon his shoulder and squeezed in what Boromir thought was a warning. Green eyes snapped in annoyance towards Aragorn's as his lips curled in a sneer at the touch that was so unwelcomed. 

"It is best that you do not speak ill of the sanctuary that we seek refuge in," Aragorn cautioned, eyes holding the gaze steadily, not understanding why Boromir was so angered by the simple touch of comfort. 

"Sanctuary? I think not. What do we know of the Lady and her Lord and who can say what designs she has with regards to the Ring Bearer?" he hissed and shrugged out of Aragorn's grip. The Ranger narrowed his eyes. 

"Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel. You know not of what you say if you think that she has evil intentions. There is in her and in this fair land no evil unless a man bring it hither himself!" said Aragorn, his voice soft but the rebuke behind it was unmistakable. Boromir closed the distance between them at an alarming speed, gripping Aragorn's tunic; his face pressed close, lips curled and his teeth bared in aggression. 

"Evil? What evil have I brought with me? Do not accuse me of something you know nothing about!" he snarled and would have proceeded to shove Aragorn backwards had someone not restrained him, strong arms physically holding him back. 

"No, Boromir!" said a voice in a hushed tone. There was no mistaking the owner of that voice and immediately the Man's eyes widened at the prospect of what he was about to do. He became in turn ashamed and shocked at the manner of which he was behaving. 

"Legolas," he murmured as he turned to face the Elf. Legolas stood before him, solemn and still, but in his eyes a fear registered in their depth. Suddenly, Boromir was inexplicably and unavoidably afraid for himself. With a last nervous dart of his eyes towards the direction of Aragorn, who stood rooted to the ground, his face inscrutable, Boromir fled from the two as if the very Devil was after him. Legolas started to follow but Aragorn held him back. 

"Leave him be. Let him go. He needs to be alone," he said, eyes following the retreating back of Boromir's. But the Elf stepped back from the Man's touch, his eyes cold. 

"We have lost one of our numbers in the Mines of Moria. I do not wish to lose another, Aragorn," Legolas said, his blue eyes holding Aragorn's captive while Aragorn's widened in his confusion. 

"You misunderstand me, Legolas. I merely wish to give Boromir time alone to collect his thoughts. His mind troubles him greatly," he said soothingly, palms held upwards in a silent appeal for understanding. But the Elf just stared back and when he did speak, his voice held barely concealed anger. 

"Alone? It is in loneliness that a mind succumbs to corruption, Aragorn. The mind has no place to turn to except within itself and into its heart. And what then if that heart is weak? What then if it is also so easily seduced by evil?" Legolas said, his voice rising slowly in volume as he grew more passionate in his outburst. Aragorn said nothing but continued to look into the stormy blueness of Legolas' eyes. 

"Corruption? Weakness? What is it you are trying to tell me, Legolas?" he asked in a measured tone, his thoughts racing as he came to realize what Legolas was saying. But the Elf clamped his jaw shut and said not another word, his eyes raised defiantly against Aragorn's. Aragorn gave a sharp intake of breath as he slowly understood the importance of the Elf's words. 

"Boromir. He wants to take the Ring for himself all this while," he whispered to himself, disbelievingly. Legolas remained quiet and still as a statue. With an oath, Aragorn made as if to follow Boromir but Legolas grabbed the Ranger's arm forcefully. 

"Do not think to speak to him of it!" he hissed, his eyes snapping in cold fury. "Do not think to rebuke him for his desires for the ring! It will drive him to madness if you but mention the Ring in his presence!" Aragorn turned slowly towards his friend, and sorrow was etched in his face. 

"So you think that you could make him forget his hunger for the ring then, Legolas," he said quietly, his eyes, never taking off the beautiful face before him, reflecting an expression of regret and a trace of pain. It hurts him to realize that the object of his affections has feelings for Boromir. Legolas was silent for a long while. But it was in his silence that Aragorn felt the strength and love that radiated from that slender frame that stood proudly before him; love that belonged to Boromir. Legolas lifted his chin as an answer to the challenge that was put forward before him by the Ranger. 

"I will keep on trying Aragorn, for I have to believe that I could bring him back to us, and lead him away from that dark path of which he is irresistibly drawn to," he said quietly, his voice belying the tempest in his heart. Aragorn continued his perusal of his beloved, memorizing his every feature, wondering at the same time when he had lost his chance of claiming this wonder that stood before him. 

"You think highly of your ability then, if you believe that you can achieve what Boromir himself could not," Aragorn said finally. He waited for the passionate outburst once more and he was not disappointed. There was no mistaking the awakened rage in the Elf's expressive eyes. 

"You think I do not know him," he gritted out. "Well I do know him, Aragorn. I know him in every sense of the word. When he looks at me I understand him. When we kiss I love him and when we touch I worship him." 

Legolas then stood toe to toe with Aragorn, eyes flashing still. Aragorn thought that he had never seen the Elf look so beautiful in his regal posture and his eyes blazing with the fires of anger. 

"And," he said, almost tauntingly, "When we make love, I could feel every emotion in him, all his fears and desires. I know him in every way, Aragorn, and I will be his salvation or 'Legolas' no longer shall my name be!" And with that, he walked away, head held high and he never looked back to see Aragorn staring at him, all the hurt and sorrow he held in his heart clearly shown for all to see. 

"So be it, Legolas. You do what you think is best...my love," he whispered achingly, but only the wind caught his words and it kept them a secret, never to revealing it to anyone evermore. 

 

Boromir ran till his lungs burn. Elves turned to stare at him as he blundered past them, eyes clenched in the misery and the conflicts that resided in his breast. When he chanced to open his eyes again he found himself at the river bank and he skidded to a stop, his chest heaving after his sprint. He sank to the ground, exhausted both physically and mentally, the words of Aragorn coming back to haunt him. 

'There is in her and in this fair land no evil unless a man bring it hither himself.' Aragorn had said and Boromir wondered despairingly if the Ranger had known of the war that he had within himself. He brought his knees to his forehead and rocked to and fro. 'I am not evil,' he kept chanting in his mind. 'I do not wish evil to befall anyone!' And yet his heart still burns with the desire for the ring. He could not understand it still. And then he remembered the words of the Lady that had so stirred the intense and painful longings for the Ring of Power. 

'What if you could persuade the Ring Bearer to lend you the ring? What will you do then?' Her voice echoed like thunder in his brain and he clutched his head at the agony of its memory. But the voice was relentless. 'You would just have to extent your hand to the Halfling and he would not have the strength to resist you. Not if no one knows of your true intentions' A cry escaped Boromir's lips. 'No! No! Do not tempt me further! Have mercy!' screamed his feverish brain and he looked up wildly for some reprieve for the growing madness. It was as if that screaming in his mind was nothing, but a cry in the dark; for no one knows of his sufferings, no one could find him in the deepening abyss nor rescue him from his own agony or the darkness of his thoughts. It was hopeless. 

Swearing vehemently, Boromir started to tear off his tunic and boots. Without bothering to undo his breeches, he dived towards the river and started swimming, the bite of freezing water upon his skin was almost enough to drive away the monsters in his mind. And he swam for a long time until finally, after his muscles screamed in protest, he waded wearily back to the shore. With a moan he sat upon the edge of the river, his tired feet trailing in the running waters of the river and he once again brought his knees to his chest and remained still, eyes closed as the shadowy thoughts faded for the moment into the dark alcove of his mind. 

For how long he sat there, he knew not but it was only when two warm arms encircled him from behind that he realized that goose bumps had formed on his skin. He was freezing cold and he gratefully leaned into the warmth that the embrace provided. A hand cupped his chin and a blond head descended upon his, lips touching Boromir's in a tender kiss. The heat from his lover's lips brought about an involuntary moan from the Man and he shuddered violently both with the cold and with awakened desire. He threaded his fingers through the long mane of silky hair, pressing himself more firmly against the sensuous assault and groaned once more as a firm tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting his manly essence. 

Legolas broke off the kiss and cradled Boromir's body to his, repeatedly stroking the trembling body as if to dispel the Man both from the cold and from the troubles of his mind. He passed his hands all over the Man's frame so tenderly and lovingly that it nearly brought tears to Boromir's eyes. 

'I do not deserve him,' he thought miserably as he pressed his cold cheek against Legolas' warm ones. His teeth that were chattering uncontrollably were the only sound that filled the air. He huddled close to the protective cocoon of Legolas' arms and it was there he found his peace. Legolas stroked his hair as if he would do to a child. 

"You should not be here alone, Boromir," he whispered. It did not matter what the Elf said for Boromir was glad to hear Legolas' voice that was so soothing to his tangled senses. He said nothing but just rubbed his nose and lips against the Elf's slender neck, not in a sexual manner but to seek comfort. Legolas shivered at the contact of the cold flesh against his warm ones. He stood up, and helped Boromir to his feet, arms still locked around one another. 

"Come with me. I will take care of you," he said soothingly as if talking to a frightened child. Without a word, Boromir allowed himself to be let away from the river. They walked for a while, seemingly aimless in its direction, but Legolas knew exactly where he was going. They walked amongst the shadows, quietly and sneakily so that no one could fix their inquisitive gaze upon them; seeing two males, a Man, half-naked and an Elf walking hand in hand looking like they belonged together – to each other. 

They then entered a small tent near a fountain, and judging from the bow and arrows that were left carefully in the corner, Boromir knew that he was in Legolas' sleeping place (which was adorned only with a chest, a small lantern and a plush couch). The tent was situated rather a distance away from the rest of the Company and for that Boromir was thankful for, for he do not wish to see anyone at that point of time; especially not Aragorn or the Ring Bearer. His face contorted as if he was in pain. 

The Man stood in the middle of the tent, wet and miserable. Swiftly, Legolas took a blanket out from the chest and then proceeded to undress Boromir. With quick, expert fingers, he undid the buttons on Boromir's breeches and slowly took it off. Boromir's manhood sprang free from its constraints and he bit back a groan that was brought about by the delicious contact of his wet breeches sliding down against his hot shaft. He found himself grew harder by the moment and avoided his gaze from Legolas' in embarrassment as he stood before Legolas, naked as the day he was born. But Legolas ignored Boromir's responding member and proceeded to carefully dry Boromir's hair with the blanket. 

The Man gave a sigh of contentment as Legolas rubbed and patted the wetness out of his skin, working his way meticulously from the top of his head downwards. Boromir clenched his teeth as Legolas' clothed hands brushed against his turgid nipples, causing it to tighten in response to the teasing friction of cloth against flesh. He held his breath as the Elf worked his way downwards, towards his source of desire and bit his lips when Legolas carefully used the cloth to stroke his shaft. Blue eyes flickered upwards towards green and they understood the passion that smoldered in those green eyes. But Legolas had barely begun his attempt at seducing his lover to the peak of his desires. 

Discarding the now thoroughly wet cloth, he took another one from the chest and proceeded to repeat the process again. Boromir's length was hard – very hard but Legolas was not to be distracted. Not even when the Man pressed himself against the Elf, his arms wrapping around the slight figure before him when the Elf started to dry his hair again. Legolas merely dislodged himself from the Man's crushing embrace. 

Legolas saw the naked longing reflected upon Boromir's flushed face and the confusion at the Elf avoidance of his caresses. But Legolas merely smiled and said softly. "You will not touch me Boromir, for tonight you are my King and I wish to do you service." 

Blood rushed into Boromir's already hard member, its long shaft almost pushing into his navel. But he said nothing as Legolas brushed the soft cloth against his face, as if trying to rid the lines of worry and strain from its surface. Legolas gently brushed the cloth against Boromir's parted lips, and Boromir nearly moaned aloud when his lover leaned towards him, using his tongue to trace the firm outline of the Man's lips. And when Legolas passed the cloth against his nipples once more, Boromir's knees nearly buckled under him when Legolas' enticing tongue lashed out to lap at its pointed peak. 

Boromir tossed his head back, his throat working as he tried to hold back his moans of pleasure. Legolas' tongue had begun tracing the outline of the nipples, and when the Elf finally sucked at them, a hissed escaped from his lips as he arched his back as if to lose himself into the sweet cavern of Legolas' mouth. But the Elf was not done with his seductions. 

Legolas went onto his knees and Boromir felt his mouth going dry as the Elf positioned himself directly in front of his erect member. Their eyes met once more and Legolas understood the look that Boromir sent. It was a look of pure yearning and anticipation for what he knew would occur. And Legolas did not disappoint him. The Elf bent his head towards the organ that was weeping for his caresses and his warm breath caused Boromir to give a choked cry that sounded something similar to pain. With his hands holding Boromir's hips to prevent him from thrusting into his mouth, Legolas carefully traced the triangle of hair that surrounded the engorged member with his tongue, working it around its edges. 

Boromir was delirious with unfulfilled need and his flexed his hips restlessly as his eyes were drawn helplessly to the sight of Legolas' tongue wetting the curls at the junction of his thighs. He tried to take hold of the Elf's head, desperately wanting to control its movements but Legolas leisurely removed himself from Boromir's grip and continued with maddening thoroughness in his quest to service his lover. 

"Oh God, Legolas, please," he gasped, his hands, deprived of any hold or anchor to reality clenched and unclenched helplessly at his sides. Legolas looked up, his expression innocently inquisitive but his eyes sparkled with gentle mischief. 

"Please? Please what?" he teased as his hand grasped firmly the hard evidence of Boromir's need. The Man gasped aloud at the contact and began to rock his hips back and forth, pushing himself into Legolas' strong hands. However, Legolas would not allow it and Boromir cried out in dismay as he Legolas removed his hands from Boromir's shaft. The Man's hands flew to his organ with the intention of stroking himself to the peak of his fulfillment but Legolas slapped his hands away and gripped Boromir's firm hips, controlling its agitated movements. 

"No, Beloved. Be patient and let me love you," the Elf murmured but his calm voice only served to inflame the heightened passions that surged through Boromir's veins like wild fire. He moaned then, his voice rough and his tone pleading, begging Legolas to have mercy and to give him what he needs. 

And mercy was shown, for the Elf finally took Boromir into his wet, hot mouth and sucked hard and deep. Boromir cried out in sheer ecstasy, his head thrown back as he voiced his appreciation of the Elf's expert administrations of his quivering member. His hands fluttered to Legolas' head that was moving rhythmically up and down his length, frantically searching for an anchor to prevent him from losing himself in the mind-blowing sensations that his Elf evoked upon his senses. Legolas took him so deep into his mouth that the wet hair that lined his flesh at that particular spot tickled Legolas' lips as he lapped and squeezed Boromir's appendage with firm strokes of his tongue. 

And then Legolas stopped and Boromir made his protests known. But once again, he Elf paid no heed as he led the Man's trembling body towards the couch, pressing him down into the softness. Boromir sat up, his limbs trembling with yearnings as Legolas rummaged in his bag for something. When he returned, the Man's eyes darted curiously to the bottle that the Elf held in his hands. Softly, Legolas entreated Boromir to turn around and proceeded to positioned him in such a way that his firm buttocks were raised towards Legolas as if in offering. A hiss escaped Boromir's lips when he felt a finger coated with oil probing at his opening, his eyes shut against the wonderful sensations of Legolas caressing him. 

Two fingers joined the first, and then another. By then Boromir was lost, his chest heaving as he fought to draw in huge gulps of air into his lungs. His forehead was pressed into the plush cushions and his mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure whenever Legolas' fingers brushed against that secret part of his body. And then he snapped... Straining to look back at his sensuous assailant he choked out... 

"Legolas, please! I cannot bear it any longer! God, just take me! Do not torture me so!" he moaned, his voice sounding as if he was on the very brink of tears. And Legolas complied. 

"Turn around, Beloved. I want to see you when I make love to you," the Elf said, his own voice trembling with an effort to reign in his desires. Boromir turned to face Legolas, his beautiful Elf, his breathing ragged. His eyes feasted on the sight that was set before him as the Elf slowly took off his clothing. It was both maddening and exciting at the same time as piece by piece, the confinements were removed to reveal strong, smooth flesh beneath. With the final whisper of his leggings being stripped off, he settled between Boromir's legs. 

The Man's heart constricted as the Elf gazed upon him with such loving eyes. 'No,' he thought to himself, 'Do not love me Legolas. I am not good enough for you.' And tears formed unbidden in his eyes. Legolas leaned forward and licked away the drops that escaped from his eyes. 

"Why do you weep? I love you. I am here. Your Beloved is here. Do you not love your Beloved?" he said quietly, in his eyes shining with emotions and on his lovely face a sad expression. Boromir said nothing for he was too choked with his own conflicting emotions but merely reached out to Legolas. 

It was a union that both accepted eagerly. Legolas was gentle and oh, so thorough, moving in ways that gave his Beloved the utmost pleasure. Boromir barely heard Legolas' murmured praise of Boromir's perfection against his sweaty skin, shivering every time the Elf pressed soft kisses against them. Their breathings became more rapid as their straining bodies move perfectly in tandem with one another, Legolas' hands wedged between them, stroking their organs at the same time. Then with a harsh bark of pure rapture from Boromir and a long, soft sigh from the Elf, they soared upon waves after waves of tremors that passed through their bodies and hearts as they reached the summit of their pleasures. With a lingering kiss, both slumped against one another, contented, bodies still joined intimately. 

It was a long time before either of them said a word. Boromir broke the comfortable silence between them, his voice harsh with emotions. "I do not deserve this, Legolas. I am weak and so tempted by what I could not and should not have. They know that now, both the Lady and Aragorn. It is hopeless and I am lost," he said, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, lips trembling. Legolas lifted his head from Boromir's strong chest and his eyes that were looking down at him were sad as he brushed those lips with a cool finger. 

"Then no one knows you like I do," he began, his eyes brimming with all the love in the world that he held for his one Man. "They? Who are they Boromir? They do not know you and they do not understand. They do not know that when you are in my arms, you give so much of yourself to me that I hunger for more. That when we touch, your eyes take on so many colors it steals my breath away." Boromir felt wetness drip onto his face and realized that Legolas was weeping softly, his mouth compressed together in a thin line and Boromir felt the tears that he held at bay began to fall freely. 

"That when we make love, you make me lose all sense of time. And when I look in your eyes I then know one thing that is true," he said as he cupped Boromir's chin and stared deep into his very soul, "And that is – a Man who is so honest about what he feels is no weakling. You admit your flaws freely to me and it is there that strength lies, Boromir. Even if you cannot say what is in your heart I can see it by looking upon your face, by the way you move and by the expression in your eyes. And I know that you are more than you what you believe yourself to be" 

He paused for a moment, gently wiping the moisture that collected upon Boromir's eyes. "And," he continued in an even softer voice, "If you chance to lose your way, I will find you no matter where you go and no matter how deep you fall... I know this much is true, Beloved, and this much I can promise you." 

Boromir's eyes were locked upon Legolas' and without another word they kissed long and hard, Legolas' lips and hands chasing away the bleakness in Boromir's breast. They lay down for a long time, safe in the knowledge of their devotion and love to one another, neither realizing that throughout the time they had been lovers, Boromir had said not one word nor declaration of love aloud for Legolas to hear. Neither realizing that this was the last time that Boromir would be as himself... and the Gods looked upon them, granting them bliss at least for this short amount of time that they have together.


	4. The Passing

The Company sailed through the waters of the Silverlode, its currents taking them from the land of Lothlorien out into the body of the Great River. For many miles they traveled together southward, growing ever closer to their destination. Yet, their hearts were divided, for each of the company desired to take different routes in their Quest to destroy the Ring of Power. Should they abandon their boats, taking the western roads to Minas Tirith? Or do they bear their boats to Rauros, only to take to water again, heading to Amon Hen, where there they would seek each other's advice on the right path to take? 

Many days passed and slowly their minds became troubled and hearts heavy at the thought of the unseen peril that lay ahead. Aragorn and Legolas frequently sought each other's council, the quarrel they had at Lothlorien forgotten at such pressing times. They spoke together in whispers, their expression solemn as they contemplated the possible dangers that lies ahead. Already they had been ambushed by Orcs as they navigated through the River and they had barely escaped, thanks to the gray cloaks of Lothlorien that they wore, reaching the relative safety of the river bank opposite to where the Orcs patrolled in the Eastern Shores. 

"Whither shall our course take us now, Aragorn?" Legolas was saying, as they were once again resting along the river bank, his brows creased in thought. "The time must come for us to decide. We must not linger. Do we go with Boromir to Minas Tirith? Or do we turn east towards Mordor?" Boromir lifted his eyes towards Legolas from where he was seated; his eyes were bright and eager at the mention of his homeland. 

The Company had ceased their whisperings, their attention narrowed to a point upon the two tall figures that stood before them, tensed and troubled. Frodo looked into the Ranger's face, tired and withdrawn at the dilemma that he had to face. Their eyes met and their gaze held. Aragorn was silent for a moment before speaking. 

"I cannot choose the road for the Ring Bearer to take," he said, finally. "Let us rest for a moment before we come to any consensus for we are all weary." Boromir muttered to himself in disgust and left the Company to attend to his own thoughts. Aragorn's eyes followed him thoughtfully as the figure before them struggled up the slope that led away from the river bank and disappeared from view amongst the trees and huge limestone boulders that littered the forest floor. 

"He only wishes to protect his people. War is upon Gondor and he must answer his people's call," Legolas said, quietly, his eyes seizing the Ranger's. Aragorn ran his hand wearily over his face, his eyes troubled as they chance to look upon Legolas' once more. 

"I know, Legolas, and it is right that he should seek to fulfill his responsibilities. But we are given the task of following Frodo, to take him to Mordor where the Ring is to be destroyed. It is a hard road to take and the responsibility that is placed upon us is greater than any wars put together." Here, he stepped forwards towards Legolas and laid his hand upon his shoulder, feeling the strength and the tension in his body. "We must not forsake him now. Not when we are so close to the last stage of our Quest." 

Legolas looked away, his eyes downcast as he struggled with his own conflicting thoughts. "Then perhaps it is time we go our separate ways. Go with Frodo if you must and I shall hither to Minas Tirith with Boromir. The rest will choose their path as they see fit." There was a sharp intake of breath from the rest of the Company. 

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," said Gimli, his voice harsh but in his eyes there was sorrow. The Hobbits looked on upon their exchange with abated breath and they each had to come to terms with what they had long ago suspected – and that is the Fellowship is slowly but surely falling apart. 

"Yet upon us no oath or bond is laid to go further then we will," the Elf argued, his head held up and eyes holding on to the many eyes that were looking at him. There was silence before Frodo speak up, his face shadowed with worry. 

"I know that haste is needed but yet I cannot choose. The burden is heavy. Perhaps we should all be left alone and think upon our next course of action." And that was exactly what the Company agreed to do. 

Aragorn walked along the banks, deep in thought while Gimli stomped and muttered his way towards the thick undergrowth of the forest. The Hobbits sought each other's council, sitting in a circle, while Frodo set apart from his friends, his eyes lowered, his brows furrowed with the burden he carried. Legolas wandered up the slope and entered the forest to seek solace in its greenery, his heart troubling him more and more. 

It was as if a shadow had passed over his mind, clouding what was left of his bright and happy memories. It was a disturbing sensation, chilling him to the very bone for he felt the danger that seemed so distant and yet felt so near; and a ball of ice seemed to settle at the pit of his stomach. So deep was he in his thought that when he passed by a large limestone statue, he let out a startled cry when two arms suddenly reached out around his waist and dragged him out of plain sight behind the sculpture, roughly bringing him down to the ground. 

Legolas was knocked and pinned to the forest floor, winded and unable to free himself. A hard, unyielding mouth descended upon his and started to kiss his lips. The mouth clamped over his in hunger, seeking to possess and devour him whole. Legolas clutched at the body above his, a moan forming at his throat as it began to grind against his, arousing his passions with terrifying speed. He struggled to breathe as those lips began their sensuous trail down from his lips to the long, white column of his neck, gasping when the bearded chin scraped against his soft flesh. 

"Boromir, nay, not here. The others... they will hear us. They will know," he groaned, but his body belied his words as his hips began bucking frantically as a large, calloused hand reached between them to cup his hardening arousal, stroking him towards oblivion. 

"Let them," was the curt reply as he continued his ruthless assault, taking Legolas to the edge of his endurance with his hands and lips. Boromir was calculating in his moves; touching, kissing and licking Legolas in all the right places – movements that were designed to bring one to the brink of madness in their desires but not enough to bring about the completion that they sought desperately to have and Legolas writhed under the assault, helpless to resist. 

Boromir rapidly removed Legolas' tunic, and his firm tongue slid across the turgid pink nipples that were bared to his hungry gaze. Legolas' vocal appreciation sounded through the air before he quickly clamped his jaw shut, on his face a pained expression of pure pleasure. His back arched and his hips were jerking so hard in his attempt to gain the much needed friction at his groin that he threatened to throw off his lover who was stretched out atop him. 

His leggings were next to be taken off, and his member sprang free of its constriction, standing proud and eager, as Boromir slid down the quivering length of his body and bent his head towards Legolas' source of desire to lavish it with his attention. A cry threatened to fall from Legolas' lips but he held it back, biting his lips so hard that he could just barely taste a hint of blood that leaked out from the small wound he incurred onto himself. 

"Legolas?" came a voice that was certainly unwelcomed at this point of time. It was Aragorn – and he sounded as if he were close by. Certainly close enough to hear every moan that escaped from Legolas' lips should he make any sound. He stiffened in apprehension but Boromir was not to be distracted as he continued to squeeze and stroke the hard arousal with his tongue and mouth. Legolas tried to stop him but Boromir retaliated by sucking harder onto his root. The Elf's eyes fluttered back into his head... 'Leave me be, Aragorn,' he thought to himself, desperately, as another wave of pleasure, almost unbearable in nature, swept across his shaft as Boromir lapped hungrily at the tip of the Elf's organ that was oozing with his seed. 

"Legolas?" the voice persisted and it sounded uncomfortably nearer than before. Suddenly the statue that shielded the lovers from the gaze of their comrade seemed to be too small and the Elf panicked. He tried to wriggle away from Boromir but the Man was heavy. With a soft sound of displeasure, Boromir allowed the pulsating organ to slip out of his mouth, but he was not done. He moved up the Elf's body, pressing his lips onto one of those delicate ears and began to trace it with his tongue. Legolas gave a strangled moan, clinging to Boromir as if to keep from losing himself in the tempest that the Man evoked upon his senses. 

"Answer him, or he will see me driving myself into you, your face registering your delight at every stroke of my member that penetrates your sweet body," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need as he struggled to undo his breeches... 

 

"Legolas!" Aragorn called out, worry lining his face. He could have sworn he had heard the Elf cry out and he wondered if he was hurt. His eyes darted around, as he walked rapidly towards where he thought Legolas' voice came from. In his heart, he felt the stirrings of unease. And then he heard it again, a gasp followed by a groan, coupled with frantic rustling of the leaves on the forest floor. It sounded as if the Elf was trashing about amongst the fallen leaves. 

"Legolas, can you hear me? Speak to me!" he cried out, picking his way as quickly as he could over the forest ground so as not to trip over the thick roots of the trees protruded from the ground. There was that stubborn silence again before a voice choked out. 

"Leave me be, Aragorn," it said, its voice had a strained quality and a hint of a tremor beneath it. There were the sounds of heavy breathings as he approached a fallen limestone statue. For some reason, he hesitated to look behind it. 

"Are you hurt? I heard you cry out," he said, still looking carefully at the statue and listening to the odd noises and whisperings that emitted from behind it. He took another step closer as the rustlings paused for a moment and then resumed. He took another step. 

"Nay! I am not hurt! Just leave! Please! Oh God!" his voice rang out, jarring and strident, sounding as if he was on the brink of tears. The sounds that followed then sounded muffled, as if he was clamping his hand over his mouth to prevent Aragorn from hearing his cries of distress. Aragorn started to walk away but faltered as he heard the Elf drew in a shuddering breath and emitted soft cries. He had never seen or rather heard the Elf so distraught and he wondered at the cause. He stood still for a moment and still the cries did not stop, if anything, it became more desperate... 

 

Legolas' body was on fire, his every limb twisting and his hands grabbing hold of Boromir's head as its tongue worked its magic upon his shaft. He wanted to find his release, to cry out in rapture at the ecstasy that he knew only Boromir could bring. But the Ranger still stood just on the other side of the statue, and the Elf could have screamed in frustration. 

"I would leave, if you but tell me what is wrong, Legolas!" Aragorn said, his voice sounding worried and annoyed at the same time. Legolas opened his mouth to answer but Boromir captured his lips in a searing kiss. Spreading the Elf's long, muscular legs, he settled between them and slowly slid his engorged member into Legolas' opening. The Elf trembled at the sensation as Boromir began pressing in and out, slowly and thoroughly stimulating the sensitive spot deep inside his body. His eyes were clenched shut his hands grabbed onto the shoulders of the heaving body above him. 

"If you do not answer me, I am going to come to you to find out exactly what is it that is wrong with you," he warned, his footfalls getting alarmingly nearer every time. "Aragorn...Saes... I... oh God... I just... need to be alone," he stammered out, his breathing ragged and chest heaving, as he reach closer and closer to the peak of his fulfillment. His breathing increased in tempo and volume as Boromir's knowing hands stroked the source of his desire in time to the movements of their hips, his mouth opened in a silent cry of wonder as they strained to reach for their completion. 

There was another agonizing silence before he heard Aragorn slowly move away. And then immediately, Legolas' body seemed to burst into a thousand stars as he reached his release, his slender body shuddering with the force of it. He cried out into Boromir's hot mouth, tongues meeting wildly, sucking and teeth biting at each other's lips in a raw and animalistic hunger. With another lusty cry, Boromir joined his lover in achieving the summit of their pleasures and they lay against each other, spent. 

Legolas lay in a daze as Boromir pressed hot kisses on his face, lips, neck and shoulders. It was as if he could never get enough of his Elf. There was something so hungry and so sad about the way Boromir touched him that it nearly brought tears to Legolas' eyes. Their eyes met and held. Boromir reached out to run his hand through the silky tresses, slowly and gently removing the leaves that were entwined in his hair. 

"You could have waited for nightfall before taking me," Legolas said wryly, on his lips a small smile. Boromir's heart constricted at the honest smile as his hands continued to caresses the Elf's face lovingly but he remained silent, eyes gazing intently into his lover's. 

"I wanted you to see me in daylight so that you will never forget how I look, be it night or day," he murmured and Legolas wondered at the statement. But time had slipped by quickly and they heard in the distance, the raised voices of the Hobbits. Legolas quickly put on his clothing while Boromir followed suit, but at a slower pace, his eyes downcast and his movements jerky. The Elf regarded his lover with watchful eyes, registering Boromir's jaw clenching and unclenching as if he were deep in a thought that he was reluctant to entertain. 

"I will go to them first. It's best that they do not know we were together," Legolas said, as he stood up cautiously. He started to move towards their camp when Boromir grabbed his hand. He started and stared into the green eyes of his Beloved. Once again that same shadow seemed to flit around in his mind and the chill of unease settled at the base of his spine. 

Boromir saw the love and concern in the Elf's expressive eyes but still said nothing as he tenderly pressed his lips against Legolas' eyes and gently turned him around. "Go," he whispered and turned his back towards the Elf as he continued to dress. With a last long look at Boromir, Legolas walked quickly to where the rest of the Company stood, well aware that his Beloved watched him as he went... 

Aragorn was the first to notice the Elf, and on his face he wore a mask of calm but his heart was raging with an emotion that he would not give name to. Images flashed in his mind, making a mockery of what he had seen and heard behind the statue, confirming what he had already known in Lothlorien; and that was, Boromir and Legolas were lovers in all sense of the word. But knowing it did not lesson the agony after he saw the Elf pinned under the weight of Boromir's, his slender body undulating and trembling with desire as Boromir speared him with his instrument. He found that he could not look at the Elf in the eyes anymore. 

"Have we come to a decision then?" the Elf asked, coming next to him. The Ranger could smell the scent of Boromir upon his fair skin and he looked away, shaking his head in answer. "We cannot come to a decision without the Ring Bearer. He had already requested for an hour more to make up his mind over the matter," Aragorn said, his calm voice a contradiction to what he felt. 

Minutes passed in silence, and then the hour came and went and still there was no sign of the Frodo. Aragorn shifted uncomfortably, his fears increasing with each passing minute. Legolas seemed restless too, his keen eyes darting towards the forest not far behind them, as if looking for signs of Frodo... or Boromir... 

"Boromir," Aragorn whispered and suddenly he understood why he was so worried. Frodo was gone and Boromir did not return although Aragorn had last seen him with Legolas. The Elf's head snapped towards Aragorn, his face registering the misgivings that the Ranger himself carried in his mind. And then the Company sprang to their feet in horror at the thought of what could have happen in the last hour. Where had Frodo gone? Was he killed? And worse still, did Boromir kill him and take the ring for his own? 

Immediately a search party was sent out, the Hobbits going with Gimli and Legolas followed Aragorn as they sprinted through the forest. They searched behind every tree and every stone and they still could find neither the Ring Bearer nor Boromir of Gondor. Fear struck a chord deep in their hearts and although their lungs burned with fatigue, they did not stop running. Wildly they called out their friends' name, all hoping that they would be in time to stop the inevitable, should Boromir be alone with Frodo. 

Aragorn pressed on, his sword bouncing upon his hip and Legolas, with his Elvish knives, bow and arrows forgotten in his haste. On and on they seemed to run without any signs of their companions until finally, they heard a loud squawk and saw Frodo tumbling down from his perch on top of a statue. Legolas rushed towards the Hobbit to give aid but Frodo yelled in fright and shrank from his touch, on his face were bruises that were fresh and large. Legolas stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with dismay as Frodo wept into his hands. Aragorn moved forward, his palms held out as if to calm the frightened Hobbit. 

"Frodo, do not fear us. We are only your friends, Legolas and Aragorn," he said soothingly but did not touch the trembling body for fear of him running away like a frightened rabbit. Frodo looked up, his swollen lips quivering. "The Ring. It had taken Boromir," he choked out. 

"Did he take it? Where is it?" demanded Aragorn, his voice harsh with emotions that he could not identify; a terrible mixture of sadness, anger and regret. But Frodo cringed from Aragorn and scampered away on all fours in a pitiful manner. It breaks Aragorn's heart to see the little one so wretched. 

"Frodo! Please, we do not seek to harm you. We swore to protect you," Aragorn said, moving cautiously towards the small figure, huddled on the floor as he bore the burden of the world upon his neck. "But can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo cried out, reaching desperately for the Ring that hung on a chain and thrusting it towards them. "Would you destroy it if it were given to you?" 

Aragorn approached Frodo, an inscrutable expression in his eyes. The ring seemed to call out to him and yet, he knelt before him and closed the Hobbit's fingers over the hateful treasure, looking deep into those large Hobbit eyes. "I would have gone with you into the very fires of Mordor," he said, his voice clear but they are not without emotion for he knew that the fate of the Ring no longer lay in the hands of the Fellowship, but in the hands of this one little Half-ling, doomed to his fate. The Hobbit and Man stared into each others eyes, and when Frodo ran off into the forest once more, Aragorn and Legolas did not follow. 

"Alas, what will become of the Fellowship now?" said the Elf, distressed, as his eyes followed the small figure, running through the forests. "I had thought that whatever road we take will be to our benefit, not to our ruin." Aragorn's answer was cut short when Gimli burst out of a bush before them, blundering into their arms. 

"Where are the little ones?" said Legolas, his voice sharp with worry. Gimli shook his head urgently, his breathing harsh. "They ran off! Gone! Calling out for Master Frodo they did! And Sam took off in another direction!" he panted, his eyes wild. And then they all heard it, the deep-throated call of a great horn that blew, the blast of it reverberating off every tree and every stone, rising in a mighty shout against the roaring of the falls nearby. 

"The Horn of Gondor," cried Legolas, his breath catching in his throat. "Boromir," whispered Aragorn, his eyes wide with horror. "He is in need! We must hasten to his side!" But Legolas had already sprinted like a deer towards the call of his Beloved. 

Legolas dashed onwards, ignoring the loud beating of his heart, ignoring the calls of his friends to stay together and ignoring the arms of trees that slashed his cheeks open as he brushed past them. All that matters was that Boromir needed him and nothing will stand in his way. "Boromir!" he screamed, his voice cutting through the closed air of the forest like a knife. Again and again he called out Boromir's name, desperate to locate his love as he followed the sound of the blowing horn that was going alarmingly fainter, as if Boromir was growing wearier with each passing moment. And then all of a sudden it ceased and Legolas' heart nearly stopped in his breast. 

Putting on a last burst of speed, he dashed on over the slope of a hill and the sight that greeted him below filled him with horror... there were multitudes of Orcs, surrounding a fallen figure, leering at him menacingly. Boromir had fallen to his knees, his body pierced with many black feathered arrows. He was barely alive. 

"Nooo!" Legolas screamed, in his eyes a wild fire of rage and hate as he brandished his white knives, slicing his way through the sea of foul Orcs, one by one felling them to the floor. But they stood in his way, some laughing as they strived to keep him away from Boromir and some jeering as they let arrows fly towards his direction. But no one could stop him from reaching Boromir as his knives flashed out like blots of lightning, slashing their loathsome throats. And then he made a mistake of looking into Boromir's eyes. 

There was such grief in them, and such painful regret. His swollen lips were parted as if he wanted to speak words that Legolas could not hear. He was so close to Boromir now, so close that if he but took a few more steps, he would be able to reach out and touch him. But the consequence of being careless made him pay dearly. Legolas let out a cry of pain as an arrow pierced through his left shoulder, the force of the shot pinning him to a tree, effectively immobilizing him. A trembling hand reached up to remove the imbedded arrow but the pain was excruciating as every movement served only to tear a larger hole into his shoulder. But it was nothing compared to the pain that the Orcs had in store for him. 

"Nay!" he cried out desperately, as an Orc, the largest of the band, took out his sword and traced the outline of Boromir's face and neck with its tip, drawing blood as the sharp point grazed the soft flesh. The Man looked up towards his executioner, completely at his mercy and yet his eyes held no fear, just that same melancholic expression that Legolas had seen before. Again and again the Elf screamed out, as the enemy's sword cruelly carved lines onto his love's flesh, his struggling causing the arrow to increase the hurt in his flesh, and blood gushed warmly from his wound. Boromir just stayed on his knees, accepting the torture upon his body. And when the Orc finally positioned his weapon at Boromir's throat, it turned to Legolas, its hideous face splitting in a mocking smile. Just when he thought that all was lost, he heard a cry. "Elendil! Elendil!" the voice rang out. Aragorn had come. 

With renewed strength, Legolas lifted his hand again and broke off the feathered end of the arrow. Gritting his teeth against the burning pain, he dragged himself away from the arrow that impaled him, its stem sliding cleanly out through his body, the tip still embedded into the trunk of the stubbly tree as he staggered towards Boromir. Aragorn and Gimli made short work of those that were foolish enough to remain behind but there was only one who Legolas had his eye on. The Orc chieftain. Grabbing his long knives, a fierce battle ensued between the Orc and the Elf. Both were kin, no matter how distant, and their moves matched each other perfectly. But Legolas had become a fighting machine. He ignored the burning in his shoulder as with a great cry, he thrusts his knife into the belly of his enemy and unseamed it from its navel to its chin. It fell to the ground, dead, entrails spilling onto the forest ground. 

The pain in his shoulder burned still and the Elf was driven to his knees due to blood loss. But still he crawled painfully towards his Beloved, who was now lying on his back. He was not moving. "Beloved. Beloved," Legolas called out, "I am here. Your Beloved is here." He dragged himself towards Boromir, his blood leaving a trail along the forest floor as finally, he reached Boromir's side. Legolas sat up and propped his love onto his lap, stroking his face and hair with his good hand. Boromir's face was barely recognizable under the bruises, cuts and blood that oozed out from the wound inflicted by the Orc's sword. His lips were still moving, as if trying to form words he has little strength to say. 

"They took the little ones," he choked out, gurgling in his own blood. Tears trickled down his face, leaving a clean trail down his dirty cheeks. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I have failed you all." His eyes fluttered in his head, his breathing shallow and ragged. Legolas wept openly, his head pressed against Boromir's. 

"Nay. Frodo still lives. You spared his life and you protected the others with yours. All is not lost," Legolas whispered, cradling Boromir in his arms. Boromir's lips moved again as he strived to maintain eye contact with Legolas and it was clear that he was fading fast. "I did not tell you. I lo-...," But it was too late. A shudder passed through the large frame and then he was still, his eyes locked unseeingly into the face of one he had not the chance to reveal his love to. 

Legolas buried his face into Boromir's shoulder, crying and calling his name. "Beloved," he said repeatedly, the name a prayer upon his lips and he did not notice Aragorn and Gimli approaching him, and in their eyes were tears of sorrow. Aragorn laid a hand upon the heaving shoulder, racked with anguish. Gimli was quiet, lost in his own grief. And as the night falls swiftly over the forest, basking the trees in its shadows, the darkness was almost kind as it seemed to lament the passing of Boromir, Son of Gondor.


	5. The Emptiness of Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boromir is dead and the Elf is withdrawing more and more into himself. Will Aragorn be able to dispel the bleakness of Legolas's heart? Or will he find out that there is nothing there but that Emptiness of Space?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T_T I can't believe my 19 year old self wrote this.

The Fellowship had broken asunder. Nine there were when they first left Rivendell, one of whom they lost in the Mines of Moria. But they had lost so much more in the scant few hours that had gone by. The Hobbits had disappeared; two they were now trying to find, two more have gone on their own to the land of the Shadows – and Boromir, Aragorn's heart clenched at the thought of his companion, his body they had lain in a boat and sent over the Falls of Rauros, the Great River taking care that the memory of Boromir be preserved.

As they tracked swiftly through the forest, Aragorn’s eyes kept glancing towards Legolas, whose face was taut with strain and the anguish he had carried of late. Repeatedly he saw Legolas fondling an object that he carried with him close to his breast wherever he went – an object that, Aragorn knew, was more precious than his own life. And his mind started to recall, unbidden, the events that had occurred on the night of Boromir’s departure.

**********

“We must move on, lad. It is best we do not linger,”Gimli’s voice came through the curtain of grief that Legolas hid behind, his cherished burden lying in his arms. Legolas shook his head wearily, tears coursing silently down his face. Aragorn gathered the broken pieces of Boromir’s sword, bent with his own troubled mind. Thoughts flashed through his brain as he wondered at the path for which they had to take. He stood silently next to the Elf as he contemplated the course of his next actions.

Finally he spoke. “Boromir said that they took the little ones. We must hasten and rescue them. We cannot leave them to torment and torture,” he said slowly, his eyes moving towards the direction where the Orcs had fled in terror when faced with their fierce assault. Legolas raised his head, his eyes now devoid of any emotion. Gimli clasped the Elf’s unwounded shoulder encouragingly.

“Then what of Boromir? We cannot leave him lying like carrion amongst these foul Orcs,” he murmured, his hand never ceasing to stroke Boromir’s hair and face, every now and n hen he leaning forward to kiss the cold lips of his Beloved. “We will put him into our boat with his weapons and send him over the Rauros,” suggested Gimli, “But we must do it soon.” A look of pain passed swiftly over the Elf’s face but he agreed.

After tending to the Elf’s injury, Gimli and Aragorn carried Boromir towards the riverbank. It was no easy task, for the Man was large and heavy. Legolas’s wound had by then stopped bleeding, for Elves heal quickly. But he still did not have the strength to help with the task of bearing his Beloved. They placed their comrade in one of the remaining boats and Legolas knelt beside it, his eyes roving hungrily upon his love’s face. Gimli looked around and saw that there was only one boat left and Sam’s baggage was gone, along with Frodo’s.

“Think you that Sam went with his Master?” asked Gimli, his eyes troubled. Aragorn paused for a moment before nodding his head in affirmative. “I think he did. You said that he went in a different direction? Then it means that he was not with Merry and Pippin.” There was a short silence and then he turned his attention towards the Elf.

“Come, Legolas. It is time. We must let him go,” he said gently. Legolas was silent as stone, eyes fixed intently upon the unmoving figure that was laid in the boat. And then without a word, he took out his knife and proceeded to cut off a lock of Boromir’s hair. Folding it carefully, he then placed it in the pocket of his tunic, next to his heart and he stood up, a determined light in his eyes. He was ready. And together they pushed the boat into the river, watching in silence as the Elven boat rode the falls and foaming pools, bearing the body down towards the direction of Osgiliath, never to be seen again.

**********

That had been several long hours before and they still pressed on, searching for signs that Merry and Pippin might yet be alive. For many hours they travelled, night breaking into dawn, the footprints of the Orcs still freshly imprinted onto the ground. It was not until Gimli called for Aragorn to halt that the Ranger realized something was amiss. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Gimli. His heart nearly stopped when he saw that Legolas had fallen, his head pressed against the ground and his body was shaking uncontrollably, hands clenched in a fist.

“Legolas!” he cried out, alarmed and rushed to the Elf’s side. He gathered the body in his arms and became frightened at how pale the Elf looked. Quickly he inspected the wound at Legolas’s shoulder for fear that it had become infected. Legolas was cold to the touch and his eyes had taken on a frighteningly glazed expression, something that was extremely rare amongst Elves for they always have a very intense look in them.

As the Ranger unwrapped the Elf’s bindings, he gave a sharp intake of breath, his heart pounding in his chest. The flesh had healed remarkably, but the area around the shoulder had taken on a horrible shade of black. “Poisoned!” Gimli gasped out in horror as he bent down to grab hold of the Elf’s legs that were trashing about uncontrollably. The poison seemed to be spreading quickly in Legolas’s body, and before long, despite Aragorn and Gimli’s desperate attempt to soothe their comrade, his body was shaking violently, his laboured breathing was rapid and shallow.

“Aragorn, look to Legolas! I will see if I could find some herbs to ease his pain,” Gimli said, his fear for his friend’s life mounting with terrible speed. Without looking back, he dashed into the forest, looking for the ingredients to make an antidote that might combat the poison that surged mercilessly through Legolas’s body. He knew not what concoction the Orcs used but he was willing to labour on the whole day just to find a cure “except that he did not have much time. Aragorn barely noticed Gimli running off as quickly as his stout legs could carry him.

Legolas was in terrible pain. His body was racked with violent tremors of the chill that seemed to pierce through the very core of his being. Ice seemed to flow through his veins instead of warm blood. He was felt so wretched and cold that in the deep recess of his mind, he slowly succumbed to the temptation of leaving the mortal world.

Aragorn, unaware of the incoherent thoughts that were going through Legolas’s pain filled mind, had in the mean time built a fire in a desperate attempt to provide sufficient heat to warm the Elf. When that was done, he grabbed the blankets that they carried with them, wrapping it securely around Legolas’s trembling body but the shaking did not cease. He then cradled the body to his chest, hands trying their hardest to bring some warmth into his comrade’s flesh but it was no used. It was as if the Elf was giving up his attempts to fight the poison as it threatened to claim his life.

“Nay, Legolas, you mustn’t give up,” the Ranger whispered, his lips pressed to the tip of the perfect Elven ear. He rocked to and fro gently, seeking to bring comfort to this beautiful creature in his arms that were struggling to draw breath. Aragorn wept at the agony that the Elf was put through “already his laboured breathing seemed to grow softer and chest barely moving with each intake.

“You cannot leave us now, Legolas. Not when there are those who still love you. We need you. Do not forsake us. Do not forsake me,” he said softly, tears trickling down his cheeks and a lone tear dripped onto Legolas’s face. The Elf shuddered once more at the warmth of the droplet upon his cold skin, his lips parting as if to form words. Aragorn bent his head closer to catch the strangled sound that escaped from the Elf and then he heard it. “Beloved,” Legolas choked out, struggling to remain focused.

What choice does the Ranger have but to use the only tool that he had to bring his love back? “Yes, Legolas. Your Beloved is here. He is waiting for you. He is alive. You cannot leave him now. Do you not love your Beloved?” Aragorn said, his voice harsh as he wept. The Elf made several indistinct sounds, as if he were struggling to speak and Aragorn knew that the battle to get the Elf to the world of the living was half won. The Elf fought back, desperate to return to the realm of consciousness once more “to be with the one Man he loved.

For several long minutes, Aragorn spoke to the Elf; speaking words of encouragement and words of love. And throughout those long minutes, the Elf responded to the Ranger’s voice, his chest heaving with each painful breath that was drawn into his lungs. Every minute seemed to be an eternity as Legolas writhed under the agony inflicted by the poison.

And then, mercifully, Gimli’s heavy footsteps could be heard running towards them. In his palm, he clutched an assortment of plants and herbs. Quickly, the two friends started to work. Taking fresh water from their water skin, they poured it into a metal bowl that they had chanced carried with them. Gimli set the bowl on the fire and toss in a measured amount of the herbs and waited for the water to boil. Aragorn looked on anxiously, his arms wrapping themselves possessively around Legolas, bending every now and then to brush his lips against the Elf’s forehead. A few unbearable minutes later, the antidote was cooled and ready.

Picking up the bowl carefully, Gimli handed it to Aragorn. “He must drink this. It will be foul to the taste but he would benefit from it,” he said. Aragorn carefully laid Legolas on the ground, taking the bowl from Gimli. The smell that emitted from the concoction was terrible and he dipped his finger into the warm liquid and tasted it. Immediately he spat it out again.

“This is poison!” he exclaimed in dismay and made as if to toss away its contents, but Gimli stopped him. “Nay! He must drink it. I know a little of the ways of the Orcs for my people had long since had trouble with them. They are cunning, and their weapons are laced with poison that no antidote can cure. It is only with another poison that the venom will be purged from his body and, hopefully, the pain will lessen.”

There was a long silence, broken only by Legolas laboured breathings. “It must be done. Poison will thwart poison, Aragorn. Trust me.” Gimli entreated, his voice shaking with emotion. Aragorn closed his eyes; his heartbeat seeming to drum in his ears. “So be it,” he said, his voice emotionless but when he opened his eyes again, Gimli could see the fear and doubt.

Cautiously, Gimli propped Legolas against his chest, causing the Elf to sit upright. His body seemed to be deadweight against the dwarf’s and Aragorn held the bowl to the Elf’s lips. But the Elf was too weary to swallow and the medicine dribbled down his chin whenever the Ranger tried to pour it into his mouth. Gimli started to despair before Aragorn tried another way of feeding the medicine to the Elf.

Taking Legolas into his arms, he lifted the bowl to his lips and drew some of its content into his mouth. And then, he pressed his lips to the Elf’s cold ones, and slowly released the potion into the Elf’s unresisting mouth, careful not to feed the Elf too much at a time for fear of him choking. “Do not swallow it, Aragorn,” the Dwarf cautioned as the Ranger repeated the process, putting his life in danger to safe another. Such was the extent of love Aragorn had for Legolas.

Finally the last drop of the antidote was given to the Elf and Aragorn rinsed out his mouth with some fresh water. His eyes were fixed intently on the Elf, his expression wary. “How do we know that it will work?” he asked, his misgivings clearly seen in the blue depth of his eyes. Gimli shook his head. “We know no such thing. The Orc’s venom will kill him anyway if we do nothing. The only thing left to do now is to wait.”

A deep sense of fear seemed to uncoil itself at the base of Aragorn’s spine. “Wait? What for what?” The answer to his question came swiftly as a hiss escaped from the Elf’s lips and his back arched frighteningly like a bow. “Hold him, Aragorn! It is the medicine that is affecting him thus!” Gimli said, perspiration beading at his brow as he strived to pin the bucking body to the ground. Aragorn placed his weight onto the body that was trashing about even more violently then before. It took both the strength of Man and Dwarf to hold Legolas in place as tremors racked through his body. The Elf’s eyes were rolled so far back into the back of his head that only the whites could be seen and his chest heaved in a most alarming manner.

“Come on lad. Do not give up now,” murmured Gimli as Aragorn spoke words that were meant to sooth the Elf. It seemed to go on forever until finally, with a piercing cry that was wrenched from his throat, froth began to spew out from Legolas’s mouth “its colour was as black as night.

“Up she comes. There you go lad. Easy. Easy,” whispered Gimli as he turned Legolas onto his side as the poison proceeded to spill out from the Elf’s mouth. And then the trembling of his body suddenly ceased “the Elf had become motionless, as still as Death. “Legolas, come, my lad. Breathe. That’s it now. It’s alright,” Gimli said, his voice shaking with fear as he fought to get the Elf to sit up, rubbing his back at the same time. But the elf did not move, and his body limp and pliant under the frantic administrations of his friends.

Gimli and Aragorn continued to speak to the Elf, gently slapping his face, stroking his back as if trying to rub life into his body. Just when they thought all was lost, the Elf’s back curved backwards suddenly as Legolas finally gave a loud, shuddering gasp as air filled his lungs once more. It was as if he were a swimmer bursting to the surface from the depth of a deep pool that he had lingered too long in. The last shivers raced down his spine before Legolas slumped into Aragorn’s arms, his chest moving up and down gently with every breath he took. He was fast asleep.

Relief rushed to their hearts and the two friends allowed themselves to give one another a shaky grin. Gimli sighed, fatigue showing in every line of his face but his eyes were bright and happy now that Legolas had braved the worst of his ordeal. He gave an unceremonious snort. “I should have known that the Elf would be too stubborn and too proud to die before me anyway,” he joked as he burst out in a rare chuckle. Aragorn just looked at the Gimli, his hand reaching out to clasp the Dwarf’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said simply, his eyes telling the Dwarf all of what his tongue could not. And suddenly they seemed to just realize that the day is filled with colours and sweet sounds of the birds once more. It was a long time before any of them spoke again.

**********

Legolas continued to rest throughout the whole morning and well into the afternoon, drifting in and out of consciousness. The insides of his body felt as it they had been scrubbed out with gravels. Every now and again he would give a slight shudder as the reaction of the chemicals in his body seemed to engulf his senses in pain, but they were sporadic now, and more bearable. But always, he would be aware of a figure next to him, gently wiping off sweat from his brow and tenderly dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a cloth when the poison chanced to escape from his lips. Sometimes when the pain seemed to be too much to bear, causing the Elf to moan, he could feel soft, warm lips pressing against his brow and a strong hand held his, stroking it lightly as Legolas lay down, inert, as if in sleep.

Aragorn sat beside his love, his heart swelling with emotions. The Elf was so beautiful and so perfect, even when he was at the brink of Death. But that was a thought he refused to entertain. If Legolas were to die then, he would have gone mad in his grief. He loved the Elf. He admitted it freely to himself now as he trembled at the thought of how close he was to losing his love. Carefully he lay down on his side, next to Legolas. He drew the warm body close to his heart and promptly fell asleep, his arm wrapped around the Elf as if he could not bear to let him go”

**********

Aragorn’s eyes snapped open. He wondered what was it that had actually awoken him until he realized the cause “Legolas was no longer next to him. He sat up drowsily and peered into the darkness of the forest. It was nightfall and the wind was blowing gently through the trees. Gimli was leaning against a tree, fast asleep, snoring gently as he did “but Legolas was no where to be found. He stood up, listening for the sounds of the Elf’s footsteps or some sign of where Legolas had gone off to. Slowly he wandered towards a stream not far away from whence they slept. He knew not what drew him there but when a sight greeted him, he suddenly understood”

Legolas stood knee deep in the midst of the running waters, a cloth in his hand as he washed himself. He was naked; and the pale skin seemed to glow with a soft light. His back glistened with droplets of water, muscles rippling as he passed the cloth slowly but thoroughly over the contours of his body. Aragorn felt his mouth go dry and took an unconscious stem away from the safety of the shadows towards the water edge. Legolas straightened his back, but he did not turn around. Aragorn knew from the way the Elf held his back, stiff as a rod, that his presence had not gone unnoticed. There was a long but not uncomfortable silence.

“I have not thanked you for saving my life,” came the voice, clear as crystal but devoid of any emotion. Aragorn took a hesitant step towards the water as if he feared that any sudden movements might startle the still figure before him. “There is no need to thank a friend, Legolas,” he said, carefully matching the expressionless tone of the Elf as he moved closer. He stood at the very edge of the stream, unwilling to shorten the distance between him and the Elf, but equally unwilling to turn back. Legolas’s head turned slightly towards the direction of the Man, and from an angle, Aragorn saw a small but terribly sad smile upon his face.

“Legolas?” came the pained whisper. “Who is he? He longer exists. He died when could not keep the promise he made.” Aragorn was silent as they both remembered the dispute they had at Lothlorien. “I will be his salvation or “Legolas” no longer shall my name be” came that angry echo in his mind and his heart constricted at the suffering he heard in the Elf’s voice.

“Boromir’s death is not of your own doing, Legolas,”Aragorn murmured as he finally mustered enough courage to wade through the shallow body of water and placed a hesitant hand upon the Elf’s shoulders. Legolas barely flinched at the touch but his entire body began trembling with emotions that he no longer had the strength to constrain.

“No? But where was I, Aragorn, when madness took him? Where was I when he fell into the darkness that I had sworn to protect him from?” he said, achingly and when he turned to face the Ranger, all the feelings that he had kept in check was laid out for Aragorn to see. “Where was I,” he asked again, his voice even softer and quivering as if he was on the brink of tears, “Where was I, when he fell to his knees, completely at the mercy of his enemy and my name lingering upon his lips?” He spun around, his shoulders hunched and head bowed under the weight of his guilt and sorrow.  
“You were in his heart, right till the very last breath he took,” the Ranger said quietly, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Legolas as those shoulders began to shake with grief. “I failed him,” Legolas said, his voice now hollow, as if all that he had lived for had been taken right out of his hands. It was as if there was nothing left in his heart “nothing but the emptiness of a space that he could never fill.

Aragorn stepped towards Legolas and gently but firmly turned him around. He stared deep into those pain-filled eyes, and the love that radiated from the Ranger was too much for the Elf to bear. Legolas looked away, his lips compressed in a thin line. “Do not love me Aragorn,” he murmured as Aragorn took the cloth from the Elf’s limp hands and wrapped it round the curve of his buttocks.

“But it cannot be helped, for my heart only feels what it does. I cannot stop myself from loving you,” the Ranger whispered, his voice strangely hoarse, as he held the edges of the fabric and slowly brought the Elf against his body. Legolas closed his eyes as if he were weary. “Then you must tell your heart what it already knows, for I will never be able to return your love “not while I still feel that I am bound to another.” Aragorn leaned forward to kiss the Elf’s ear, running his tongue along its sensitive edges and Legolas trembled with the sensation that it provoked in him.

“Then my heart must be mad for it will not listen,” said Aragorn, his eyes now locked upon the Elf’s. Their eyes held for a long time and then, with a soft sigh, Aragorn pressed his lips against Legolas’s in a tender kiss. Gently, he brushed his lips against the Elf’s, their breath mixing as he coaxed his lips apart. Aragorn slanted his head and took Legolas’s mouth whole, not giving himself a chance to think, only to act in reaction to what the Ranger knew his heart desires. The Elf tasted of his own unique essence “as sweet as honey,” thought the Man and in an instant, his body hardened against the Elf.

Legolas stiffened and seemed to shiver away from the Ranger’s assault but the cloth that was around his hips served to imprison him in Aragorn’s arms. Each tug of the Ranger’s mouth was pure pleasure and as Aragorn bent his head to lay kisses upon Legolas’s neck, the Elf arched his back, his hand clutching the Ranger to him.

A tongue lashed against his nipples, which had tightened in the cold, and Legolas let out an involuntary moan, his head tossed back in helpless surrender. Aragorn stopped suddenly, and when he gazed into the eyes of the Elf, his breath caught in his throat for they were dark with awakened passion. What happened next was inevitable.

Within minutes, the two figures were on dry land, near the stream, where Legolas had discarded his garments. Aragorn struggled with his clothing, his eye fixed upon the Elf’s hard arousal. When the last item had been removed from his body, he stood before Legolas, his breathing ragged and the evidence of his desire stood like an exclamation point from his body. Legolas looked away, biting his lips at the conflicting emotions that dwelled in his heart. But Aragorn would not allow the Elf to attend to his thoughts.

Swiftly, he closed the distance between them and enveloped the Elf in a crushing embrace, lips locked upon one another, tongues tangling as Aragorn pushed Legolas down onto the soft ground beneath them. The first sizzling contact of their erect members brought about a hiss from Legolas and groan from the Man. Aragorn proceeded to torture them both by rolling his hips, their members brushing against one another in a wicked rhythm, the friction causing so much pleasure that their breath quickened with anticipation.

Legolas grabbed onto those broad shoulders, his nails biting into the Ranger’s strong back and Aragorn began to give comfort to his love the only way he knew how. It first began at the Elf’s lips. The Ranger’s tongue darting out to lap at those beautifully sculpted flesh, causing them to part; the breath that came out from them were harsh. Aragorn kissed and licked his way down towards the one place where Legolas needed him the most. And when he reached his destination, he looked straight into the Elf’s eyes. Legolas was tense with expectation, his hips flexing and his eyes were glazed with desire.

With a soft sigh, Aragorn placed the tip of Legolas’s shaft into his mouth and began his sensuous assault. Legolas’s hip bucked repeatedly in his desperate attempt to bring his member deeper into the hot and wet mouth of the Ranger but Aragorn would not allow it. Grabbing hold of those slim hips, he pinned it to the ground, effectively quelling the restless movements, as his tongue and lips continued to taste and nibble on the pulsating organ.

Legolas was delirious with need, his eyes shut and his head trashing from side to side as he gritted his teeth to keep himself from crying out his need. Hands replaced lips and Aragorn stroked him to the brink of his endurance. “Estel. Gods. Please,” he gritted out, not knowing what was it that he was really asking for. His hands groped for some kind of anchor to prevent himself from being swept away as waves after waves of delicious sensation seemed to wash over his trembling body. Those hands then managed to latch itself onto his clothing, clenching and unclenching it around the fabric

Aragorn was gentle as he eased himself into the tight opening of the Elf. “I only seek to give him the comfort that he needs,” he kept telling himself, but when the Elf moaned aloud at the penetration and started to move his hips frantically, all such thoughts were erased from his mind as he bestowed all his heart, body and soul onto this one fair Elf that was responding so sweetly to his caresses.

Their hips moved in a rhythm that was as old as time. Aragorn’s hands played with the Elf’s member, first stroking the hard shaft and then tickling the tight sac under the erection. Finally, with a cry of ecstasy, Legolas found his release as he reared up, wrapping the Ranger in his tight embrace. The feel of the Elf body rippling around his shaft pushed the Ranger over the edge and with a harsh groan; he lost himself in the peak of his fulfilment. His hands gently stroked the length of the Elf’s body, as if seeking to dispel the remaining emptiness that remains in Legolas’s soul.

Legolas fell back onto his clothing, his chest heaving with the aftermath of the love making. Aragorn pressed soft kisses onto the Elf’s sweaty shoulder and murmured tender words against them. And suddenly, he felt the Elf tense and shudder. He snapped his eyes towards the Elf’s and he saw the look of horror in them. Those bright blue eyes were focusing on something the Elf held in his hand. And when the Ranger turned to look at the offending item, blood drained from his face. For in those hands, there was a reminder of why the Elf could not submit himself to the Ranger. It was a reminder of the Elf’s devotion to the one person he could no longer have. It was the lock of Boromir’s hair.

“Legolas?” Aragorn asked, his voice hesitant as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the Elf. His heart seemed to break in two when Legolas started to shake. He disentangled himself from the body and immediately, Legolas curled himself into a tight ball, clutching the article to his heart, his eyes closed tightly to stem the flow of tears. Aragorn moved away, his face shadowed.

“Boromir, I’m sorry. I’m sorry Beloved. Please forgive me.”

And with that, the Ranger grabbed his clothes and fled into the night, running away from the one love that he could not have: Running away from the pain of hearing those words that will haunt his dreams forever.

“Boromir, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”


	6. Eowyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is originally hosted on Adult FanFiction, and they've made a mess of all the punctuations T_T. Apologies if there are still errors.

The great doors swung open but it was by no means a gesture of welcome for Rohan’s uninvited guests. They were to be led in without their weapons, Grima Wormtongue had said, a malicious spark flashing in his eyes. “Death will come to the person who disobeys this command!” The King had said naught as he sat upon his throne, bent and wizened: a mere shell of the Man he once was. A Lady despaired. Eowyn was her name, and sorrow embedded itself like a splinter in her heart. 

She stood watch from a distant, dark corner of the hall, somewhere behind the King’s chair, as their guests approached the King. Tall they were; save one, and they moved with a grace that no man in Rohan could ever match. There were four, one of whom was old, leaning heavily upon his walking stick as his three strange companions followed him, their heads held high and pride lined their every movement. One was short in stature, his head barely reaching the old man’s chest. The other two were as different from the other as night and day, one of which was dark and the other fair. Their lack of weapons did nothing to diminish the air of danger that surrounds them as even the walls of the hall seem to tremble and quake at their very presence.

“The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden son of Thengel,” the old man said, his voice was clear and strong despite being so dependant on the staff upon which he leaned on. Grima bent towards the King’s ear, whispering his words of evil. “Wherefore should we strip ourselves of our weapons? Far have my companions travelled from their homelands to give aid to Rohan: Legolas the Elf from Mirkwood, Gimli the Dwarf from the deep cavern of his Mines and Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendir’s heir of Gondor. Will you not give them the welcome that they rightfully deserve?”

But it was not the King who addressed the old man and his company. “It is doubtful that you or your companions are welcomed here, Gandalf Stormcrow. Why indeed should we welcome you? *Lathspell* I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say,” laughed Grima, gazing upon the travellers with thinly veiled contempt. There was a tension so thick in the silence that ensued that one would think it possible to cut through it with a knife. The Man named Aragorn clenched his hands into tight fists and the Dwarf emitted a low growl of warning. The Elf did nothing, but a fire seemed to burn in his eyes, the blue depths reflecting the anger at the insult his friend took.

The change in the old man was stunning. Casting aside his tattered cloak, he stood up, tall and straight and leaned no longer on his staff. “Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth. I have not crossed fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm.” And with that, he raised his staff, thunder rolling threateningly in the skies and sunlight was blotted out from the windows, the hall plunging into darkness. For the moment only the wizard could be seen, standing white and tall in the midst of the dark and then with a wave of his hand, the gloom was slightly dispelled. But Wormtongue was sprawled upon his face, unconscious. Theoden rose slowly from his throne, his body swaying.

Eowyn hastened to her uncle’s side, taking his arm and with faltering steps, the man moved towards the wizard, eyes fixed intently upon Gandalf’s own blue ones. “Gandalf,” he murmured, his eyes clearing with recognition and his back straightening with every moment. It was as if he drew strength from his visitor and Eowyn’s heart soared with gladness as she looked at the travellers, eyes holding onto each of theirs with silent thanks. Her eyes met the Elf’s and they held: Green looking into that fiery blueness, and a shiver ran down her spine.

“Dark have been my dreams of late,” Theoden said, “but I feel as one who is newly awakened.” The wizard smiled slightly before turning to Eowyn. “Leave him a while to me, Lady, for I wish to speak to him of some pressing matters. Do not worry, for I will take care of him.” Eowyn nodded her head silently before turning and walking slowly out of the great hall. However, as she passed the doors, she looked back. 

Grave and thoughtful was her glance as she looked upon the King’s face and it was under that full light of the day that the four friends beheld Eowyn, the Maiden of Rohan and they all thought her fair. Her hair was the colour of gold, cascading like waterfall down her back. Her body was slender and delicate, yet strong as steel, garbed in her flowing white robe lined with silver. Her green eyes slid towards Legolas and there is stayed, fixed intently upon his fair face. 

The Elf was as still as stone, his mouth unsmiling but there was a certain kindness and warmth in those wise eyes. Eowyn just stood there, barely moving, and then the lady turned swiftly away as if she could no longer bear to look at the Elf and she fled outdoors into the safety of the afternoon sun where the rays warmed her rosy cheeks “ hiding a certain flush that was evoked by the Elf’s enigmatic eyes”

**********

War was imminent; Isengard had been unleashed and the enemy is strong beyond mortal reckoning. It was agreed by both Theoden and Gandalf that they must hasten to the west as soon as possible, towards Hold of Dunharrow; to face their enemies head on. The old, the women and the children will fly to seek refuge in the mountains should they fail to return. This task, Gandalf had said, must be done soon and they must leave early the next morn towards the Fords of Isen. And so it began.

Preparations were made for their journey. All men and strong lad who were able to bear arms were summoned to be ready by the break of dawn the next day. Grima Wormtongue was banished from the land of Ro and and Eomer, brother to Eowyn, was freed from the prisons that Grima sent him to. The visitors were in turn bestowed with gifts; shining mails, helms and round shields: their bosses overlaid with gold and set with precious stones. 

In the meantime, a feast was held while the servants made ready the sleeping quarters for the King’s guest to rest. It was a very much welcomed gesture for they were tired and hungry. Gimli the Dwarf was especially happy, helping himself to the fine dishes that Edoras could offer and drank deeply from his wine goblet that which Eowyn herself had filled. The Elf sat next to the Dwarf, opposite Aragorn. He was silent and would accept neither food nor drink.

Many a time the Maiden saw Aragorn’s repeated attempts to draw the Elf in a conversation, but the answers he received were always polite but distant in nature. Gandalf, Theoden and Eomer spoke to one another of the perils that they were sure to face, oblivious to the drama that unfolds between Man and Elf. Gimli was too engrossed with food to think of anything else. 

Suddenly the Elf stood, and begged leave of the table, giving the excuse that he was weary and wished to rest. The female attendants gladly showed him to his room, tittering lightly as they followed him like a puppy would follow its master. Aragorn’s eyes followhe Ehe Elf, his face holding an inscrutable expression and his eyes were guarded.

Eowyn approached him. “Hail to thee Lord Aragorn,” she murmured as she proceeded to fill his cup with more wine. The Man smiled, but his eyes were sad and troubled. “Hail to thee, Lady Eowyn,” he replied as he looked upon her face. Eowyn hesitated before saying, “I hope that your friend is feeling well my lord? He did not seem to touch any of the food or drinks that were offered to him.” Aragorn seemed to balk at the question but was spared at the need to answer when the Dwarf gave a snort of disgust. 

“That Elf does not eat anything other than those tiny wafers that he calls food, my lady. But do not be offended. It just means that there would be more share of the feast for me!” he declared, giving out a loud and resounding belch. Aragorn managed a weak smile but Eowyn was silent as her eyes followed the Elf’s retreating back.

There was no other matter of interest that took place at the dining table after that.

**********

Night had fallen and yet the Eowyn could find no rest in her room, tossing and turning upon her bed. Legolas. His face haunted her very thoughts, robbing her of sleep. Fair he was of face, with hair flowing like silk upon his shoulders. Yet he was still very manly to the eyes of the Lady, his jaw chiselled and his eyes were those that see too much yet revealed too little. Those eyes could seduce a saint. Blood rosed to her face once more at her sinful thoughts. Finally, giving up all attempts of trying to sleep, she rose from her bed. Swiftly putting on her silk robes over her nightgown, she then headed towards the kitchens. She would see to it that the Elf would not go to bed hungry tonight. 

**********

“You cannot avoid me any longer, Legolas,” said the voice in a quiet tone. Legolas just stood by the balcony, looking out to the Misty Mountains beyond Rohan. Hd not ant answer and remained silent, his mind and heart a thousand miles from where his body was. Aragorn entered the Elf’s sleeping chambers, shutting the door firmly behind him and approached the silent figure. In a few steps he narrowed the gap between him and the Elf, standing so near behind him that Legolas could feel the warmth of the Ranger’s chest against his back. His body tensed at the intimate closeness of their bodies, fingers gripping the railing so tightly that it bled white.

Gently, Aragorn removed one of those hands from its death grip around the railing. He spread the fist open, marvelling at its silken texture and pressed a kiss on the open palm. He could feel the Elf’s eyes upon him, watchful and wary. The Man continued pressing tender kisses upon the hand, his lips brushing against those tense fingers. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the stiff form, burying his face against the fragrant hair, inhaling deeply. The Elf shrugged out of Aragorn’s embrace, tension making his movement jerky.

“I cannot do this Aragorn. Please do not ask it of me,” he said, his voice flat, his eyes seeming to focus upon nothing at all as he continued to turn his back to the Man. Ignoring the flare of pain that burst in his heart, Aragorn once more took the Elf’s hand, pressing it into his. Legolas continued to look away. Glancing down at the Elf’s upturned wrist, the Ranger allowed a grim smile to play upon his lips.

“What is it about Boromir that binds you to him? I do not think that he had ever loved you nor have he told you of any feelings that he might have had for you. It is not his way,” Aragorn said as he stared at the thin bracelet that the Elf wore around his wrist. It was made from the lock of Boromir’s hair. Legolas stiffened. ‘speak nothing of what you know naught of,” said the Elf with a clear warning in his voice and his high cheekbones were flushed with spots of anger. Aragorn gave another bitter smile. 

“I may not know what it is that had transpired between you and Boromir, Legolas. But I think that I know enough to say he never did want you for anything else other then the treasures you could offer to appease his own needs,” he murmured. A look of pain flashed across the Elf’s face before he held his expression firmly in check. 

“That is a lie,” came the voice, as cold as the frost.

“Is it?” Aragorn said, his eyes narrowing with frustrations as he tightened his hold on the Elf’s hand. “What has he ever done for you safe fulfilling your lusts and desires? What sacrifices have he made? What tenderness did he show you when he took you out in the open, rutting like beasts amongst the leaves?” His voice was soft and silky but dripped heavily with sarcasm” and pain. If it had not been for that note of pain in his voice, Legolas would have killed him with his bare hands. 

The Elf now turned towards the Man, observing him from below his lashes. “Why are you saying this? What have I ever done to hurt you, Aragorn?” he murmured, his facial expression guarded but a hint of sorrow laced his words. Aragorn gave a short laugh that held no mirth; just bitterness and anguish.

“You speak of hurt? You do not know how much you hurt me, Elf,” Aragorn choked out as he held the unresisting hand against his heart, pressing his forehead against Legolas”. “Whenever I look into your eyes and see the love that I could never have - it hurts me. Everyday that you retreat into your shell, every moment that you distance yourself from me - you hurt me. Every minute and every second that you wear Boromir’s token around your wrist - you hurt me. And…” 

Here his voice cracked and he had to pause to clear his throat. “And when you choose to forget and deny what we had - what we did at the stream - it hurts me most.”

Legolas started to look away again, pain and confusion warring across his features. But Aragorn grabbed the Elf’s chin, gently but firmly turning the face towards his. Legolas had no choice but to look into the stormy blue-grey eyes of the Man. “Nay, Legolas, do not turn from me. I cannot bear it! Love me not if is suits you” but please, do not turn from me!” said Aragorn, his voice sounding harsh to his own ears. Legolas” eyes seemed to soften in pity and he raised his hands to cup the Ranger’s face, peering into those eyes that were brimming with unshed tears.

“I”m sorry,” he said achingly as he leaned forwards, pressing his body against Art Aragorn’s. His lips brushed against the Ranger’s trembling ones. With a hoarse groan Aragorn parted his lips, allowing the Elf’s sweet tongue to slip between them as he suckled on its tip. And then, with shaking hands, he led Legolas towards the bed and this time, the Elf did not resist. 

**********

Eowyn’s steps faltered as she approached the Elf’s bedroom, balancing the tray of food that she held in her hands. She knew not what might satisfy the Elf’s palate, so she just took a little of everything that was left from the feast. Nervously, her hand crept to her hair and as she tried to smooth away any tangles. Taking a deep, calming breath, she moved slowly and silently towards the door and lifted her hand to knock. Suddenly she frowned; her head tilted to one side as she listened intently, her hand frozen in mid-air.

There were sounds coming from behind the closed door - heavy breathings and an occasional, throaty groan - of what? Eowyn wondered if the Elf was ill or in pain as worry creased her fair brows. Her hand rested hesitantly upon the door handle and then, she pushed it open slightly “ the sounds that were muffled by the door now seemed to be twice as loud. Soft wet sounds and little moans accompanied by the frantic rustlings of the sheets. The frown deepened upon her face and she peered into the gloom of the sleeping chamber behind the safety of the door” and her gaze was immediately drawn to a corner in the room.

Legolas was on the bed. He was not alone. Her heart skipped a beat before escalating in a mad rush; her eyes widening in horror as they registered the outline of two figures, twisting and undulating wildly between the sheets. Their mouths were opened wide like baby birds as they seem to devour each other’s lips, the bed creaking in time to their torrid movements. It was as if they were forged together - the Elf and the Man, their bodies pressed so tightly against one another that they seem to be one.

Their union was passionate and desperate in nature as both males sought to gain dominance. One moment Legolas was pinned to the bed and the next moment he twisted his hips and straddled Aragorn, dragging his heated flesh across the Man’s, eliciting another groan. Their breathing quickened with every passing moment, and Eowyn could literally feel the tension that was mounting between the two straining bodies. It was so thick that she felt as if she could reach out and pluck it from the air.

A flash of sweaty skin and another keening groan. Legolas was on the bed. Naked. He was not alone. It was too much. And so, she fled into the night, running away from what she had seen - but the sounds stayed in her mind, as if it were making a mockery of her own awakened desires.

**********

Eowyn felt as if she were on fire. Her body seemed to burn for something she could not put a finger to as her nipples hardened into almost painful nubs that her robes did little to conceal. An uncomfortable pressure seemed to build between her thighs and it was so intense that she could have cried out at the agony of it.

Desperate to elude the strange sensations that stirred up in her body, she ran towards the back door of the castle and flung it open. The night air was a cool balm as it caressed her heated cheeks like a lover’s hand. Her agitated breathing slowed but the fires in her body was far from put out. Unbidden, her mind strayed to the scene in the bedroom. Legolas. With his armour and weapons, he was a sight to behold - a warrior elf that exudes danger and an air that could bring his enemy to their knees.

But without those clothes as he lay on the bed, naked as the day he was born, the Elf was devastating to her senses. Drawing a shuddering breath into her lungs, she then crept amongst the shadows to the one place that she knew she could seek comfort from. 

**********

It was cold, but she welcomed the chill as the water sluiced against her heated flesh. The sound of the falling waterfall cascading gently onto the rocks was soothing to her nerves as she swam in the lake. It was secluded, blocked from view by many tall trees and no man was ever allowed to enter this place for it was where Eowyn usually took her baths. Night time was her most favourite time of the day because after bathing, she liked to lie on the huge, smooth rocks and count the stars that twinkled in the black skies.

But for now, she swam, desperate to get rid of the strange tension in her body. And finally, when she grew tired, she waded towards her favourite perch and stretched naked on top of it like a cat basking in the sun and lay down, slightly breathless. She closed her eyes, allowing the familiarity of her sanctuary to wash away all her troubles. But her peace was always interrupted by someone whose beauty surpassed mortal belief; someone with eyes as blue as the skies in daylight. Someone whose strong back muscles rippled with every thrust he made into the Man’s body.

Eowyn’s eyes flew open as she grew aware of the tingling sensation between her thighs. Mildly surprised, she reached down between her legs and felt the stickiness that had formed there. She frowned in confusion as she stood up on shaky legs. Wondering vaguely at it, she then waded back to the shore to put on her robes.

The night air was even colder than the water and she shivered as the chill seemed to penetrate into the very core of her being. Swiftly, she walked back through the trees to get back to the castle. But as it was dark and she could not see clearly despite the full moon that shone brightly from the night skies.

She tripped over an exposed root and with a cry of pain, she fell to the ground. A hiss escaped from her clenched teeth as she struggled to sit up and inspect the damage that was done to her ankle. It hurts with every move that she tried to make and she bit her lips to hold back the moan of pain that threatened to spill from her lips. She wondered if it was broken - 

“Are you hurt, my Lady?”

Eowyn let out a startled scream as she looked around wildly to find the source of the voice. But there was no one in plain sight. She should have been in fear of her life. She should have been in fear for her own safety. But all she felt was an acute embarrassment for being seen in a thin robe that clung wetly to every contour of her lithe body, leaving nothing to the imagination. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” she demanded and her voice was strangely hoarse. And a figure dropped down from one of the nearby trees from whence she sat.

The breath caught in Eowyn’s throat as the figure moved towards her with a familiar catlike grace. Legolas. The darkness did nothing to take away the brightness of his eyes or the soft glow of his skin. His eyes were upon hers and she shuddered with the intensity of his gaze. Eowyn groped around for something to say as a blush threatened to form upon her cheeks but she was spared the inconvenience when Legolas knelt before her and took her swollen ankle in his hands.

It was as if she had forgotten how to breathe. The Elf’s tender administration of her foot was soothing as he seemed to rub away the hurt with his hands and his head was bent. He was so close. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through his silken tresses. And then he lifted his head and fixed his eyes upon hers.

“You have twisted your ankle. But “tis not a bad sprain,” he said. He frowned for a moment as if in thought. “It is not wise to come out at night, my L You You should have stayed in your room.”

“I could not sleep,” she said shortly, tossing her head with a mock show of courage as she felt her cheeks burning once more. Legolas merely tilted his head and regarded her with a solemn expression. Slowly he reached out and tucked a stray lock of Eowyn’s golden hair behind her ear. The gesture brought about a twinge in her heart and the sensation travelled all the way down to the pit of her stomach and to that secret place between her thighs.

“I saw you,” he said gravely, his eyes boring right into hers, watching the guilt that flashed across those expressive green eyes. “Y-you saw me?” she managed to stammer, her heart seeming to drop all the way to her toes. The Elf nodded his head slowly, never taking his eyes off hers. She swallowed hard. And she swallowed again, but no words seemed to come out.

“You should not have come to my room,” he said, his fingers lightly traced patterns on her bruised foot. There was a short silence. “Why did you not leave when you saw that I was not alone?” he asked curiously, a small frown upon his fair brows. Eowyn hesitated, and then decided to tell the truth.

“I do not know,” she whispered as her eyes traced the line of his jaw. She peered into his face and her heart constricted with the knowledge that she had come to care for this beautiful creature. It was as if he had cast a spell over her and she could no longer fight against the rising emotions within her breast. And she heard herself say” “But I do know that if I do not come to you tonight, I might never see you again.”

The Elf smiled a sad smile as he lowered his gaze towards his fingers that were still stroking her foot. And he spoke so softly that Eowyn had to strain her ears to listen. “And does that sadden you, my Lady?”

Mustering all her courage, she lifted her hand and laid it against his cheek. He looked up and their eyes met and held. She then did what she had wanted to do since the first time they saw each other; she stroked the Elf’s cheek, feeling the skin that was smooth like her own and yet under it, she could feel the steel line of his jaw. The Elf was beautiful. He was perfect. And she was falling in love with him.

“Yes,” came the answer. It was so easy to love him. Too easy. But she could never really have him for her own. Not even when his lips covered hers in a gentle but thgh kgh kiss. Not even when his tongue swept enticingly between the soft petals of her lips. Not even when she threaded her fingers through the mass londlond hair. But at least” at least this night she would be able to pretend that Legolas was hers. Just this one night.

Legolas was sensitive to her every need. His hands were magic upon her skin, coaxing and seducing with his light touch. His breath was warm and his eyes were dark with passion. Eowyn felt like the most desirable and most beautiful woman in the world to be able to evoke such emotions from the Elf.

He dragged his lips down the column of her neck and she bit back a moan of rapture. But that she could not do when Legolas cupped her firm breasts that were begging for his touch. Her first cry of passion surprised her and she fought hard to stop herself from voicing out how much she liked having the Elf’s hands upon her body. Legolas broke off their kiss and Eowyn blinked at the loss. He smiled down at her as he ran his hand once more through her long golden hair.

“Nay, my Lady. Do not fear to tell me how much you want me. It gives me more pleasure to hear you cry out for my caresses,” he whispered and Eowyn trembled at those words. He pushed her then upon the soft ground and took hold of her uninjured leg. Their eyes met once more and Eowyn dared not look away” no even when he lifted her toes to his lips and sucked gently at them. It was bliss. His tongue darted between her toes, laving them with wet warmth and she arched her back when his traced the slim line of her calf with those lips.

He closer now - so close to where she needed him most. But he was meticulous in his exploration of her body. He licked and nibbled his way up to her thighs and Eowyn felt herself growing moist and hot at the junction of her thighs. She looked away, hoping that the Elf would not see how much she needed him to touch her there. But Legolas gently turned her face towards him and in her green eyes he saw all the love and desire that the Lady had for him. And the Prince of Mirkwood was hud, ad, awe registering upon his face.

“Do you want me so much? Then I shall give myself to you,” he said, his voice husky with desire. He straightened and started to take off his tunic. Eowyn could not look away. He was a sight to behold” he was lean and yet there was no hint of weakness in those strong shoulders and the hard muscles of his chest. 

“You are beautiful,” she murmured as she traced a line from his chest to his stomach, causing a muscle to jump there. Legolas smiled wryly. “It is I who should sing my praises for you, fair Maiden. It is a boon to be complimented by you indeed.” He leaned forward to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered, ‘so what can I do to return the favour you have bestowed upon me?”

Eowyn just stared into those eyes. 

“Say my name.” 

The Elf stared back but did not say a word. Eowyn pressed her cheek against his, her slender arms wrapped around his neck. “Say my name, Legolas. You were so distant and lonely, always lost in your own world and never speaking more than a word or two. It will be the greatest gift indeed to have my name upon your lips.”

“My Lady..” he sighed, the sound held such loneliness and sorrow in them that the Lady felt tears prick her eyelids. “I cannot replace the person you hold so close to your heart.” she murmured as she fingered the bracelet on his wrist. “But I cannot bear for you to take me, all the while thinking that I am someone else. I have to know that for tonight at least, it is me you want, Legolas. Not some vessel to pour out your hurt. Just me.”

Legolas closed his eyes tightly, on his face an expression of naked pain as he trembled with conflicting emotions. And then she heard it. It was a choked sound but she heard it and was glad. “Eowyn” he said, his voice catching in his throat. Swiftly she untied the bracelet from his wrist and placed it carefully on the Elf’s discarded tunic. Legolas just watched as she smoothed the lock of hair on top of the fabric and when that was done, the Elf held her close to his heart.

They kissed with a passion so intense Eowyn could have swooned from the sheer pleasure of it. Their tongues met andolasolas suckled at its tip. Slowly, so as to not frighten her, Legolas undid the laces that bound her robe together and slipped it off her slim form. It was hard to tell who was lovelier” Legolas in his ethereal splendour or the golden beauty that sat naked before the Elf.

“Eowyn,” he murmured as he brushed his lips against her breast causing her to cry out. His tongue lashed out to lap at her turgid nipples and when he covered one taut peak with his hot mouth, her back arched as if she wanted to lose herself in the depth of his mouth. He suckled her deep and hard, a long bittersweet tug that corresponded with the ache in her belly. And then he paused, blowing cool air over the sensitized tip only to begin again on the other nipple.

He began his maddening assault to her senses, kissing his way down to the centre of her desire. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat before the blond head bent down and Eowyn felt his tongue lapping against the soft folds of her flesh. A moan was wrenched from her throat as her hips moved frantically, desperate for something she could not identify. Her chest heaved with each breath she took as Legolas worshipped her with his tongue. And then he found the tiny bud of her femininity and Eowyn’s cry rang out loud and desperate, the sound cutting through the peaceful night air.

He was relentless, licking and sucking until Eowyn thought that she would die from the havoc it wreaked upon her body. Heat built up at her loins and she strived to reach out for something she could not understand. And then Legolas stopped and she cried at in dismay, reaching out for her lover. Legolas held her in his embrace and stroked her hair soothingly.

“Nay, be patient,” he whispered, his voice strained as he tried to reign in his passions and his hands went to his belt. Eowyn held her breath as Legolas removed his leggings and her eyes flew towards the engorged organ. Tentatively, she reached out to touch it. It was hard as steel and yet when she stroked the length gently, she realized that it felt like velvet. Legolas bit back a groan as he allowed her to explore his body. Her inexperienced fingers caressed the head of his member and gently cupped the sacs beneath it.

Legolas gave out a lusty cry when her tongue flicked at the head of his shaft and his hflexflexed restlessly when she pressed soft kisses along its length. “Eowyn, no more” you will undo me.” he gritted out before he gently pushed her once more on her back. Swiftly, he positioned himself for penetration, wrapping her long, slender legs around his waist. He paused, sensing her hesitancy and proceeded to rub the tip of his organ back and forth against her petal-soft flesh. Nearly mindless with need, Eowyn called out his name, begging him to end this torment and the Elf took her then.

There was pain. But it was nothing compared to the sheer bliss of having the Elf deep inside her. He remained still for a moment, his breathing ragged and Eowyn sighed into his hair, savouring the throbbing fullness within her. Her fingers ran through his hair and he raised his face to her. His look was loving in nature; awestruck and she knew that it was the same expression that she wore on her face. And then he moved, slowly at first and then faster, their bodies seemed to dance to a perfect rhythm of their own.

Every stroke rubbed against her sensitive bud and the soft wet sounds that Legolas made when he kissed her breasts drove her to the brink of her endurance. And then it hit her; waves after waves of intense pleasure. She cried out his name, a lone, soulful moan that sounded as if she were in pain instead of in being the throes of climax. With a shuddering breath and a groan, Legolas followed her to the summit of their pleasure as he called her name.

They lay down next to each other, silent and thoughtful. Their union was everything that Eowyn had fantasized about. But dawn was approaching. Time was not on their side. But they lay still, wrapped in each other’s arms waiting for the moment where all that they have done will be nothing more than a sweet memory.

**********

They remained unspeaking in Legolas” room. She helped the Elf into his armour, buckling belts and tightening laces. Every touch was precious and her fingers were apt to linger upon his shoulder or his arm. And then when he was ready, she stood by his side and both Elf and Woman stared at one another. Eowyn smiled up into the grave face and reached out to tuck in a stray lock behind a pointed Elven ear. Her hand was shaking and Legolas took it in his hand. But still they could find no words to say.

“Legolas, come. It is time.” came a voice from the doorway. It was Aragorn. Eowyn’s eyes darted towards the Man but she saw no jealousy in those eyes when it flickered for a moment towards her hand in Legolas”, just understanding and kindness. With a last backward glance at Eowyn, the Ranger left them alone once more.

Eowook ook out the Elf’s treasure from her pocket and tied it once more around his wrist. Legolas just stood still, watching her as she trembled at the feel of the bracelet beneath her fingers. When their eyes met once more, tears slipped from the corner of her eyes. The Elf wordlessly wiped them away, his own face shadowed with an unnamed expression.

“Will I ever see you again?” she murmured as she kissed each of his hands” the very hands that moments ago had touched her with such tenderness and passion. In response, the Elf steered her towards the balcony. He stood behind her, his warm body pressing against hers and he looked up into the sky. It was dawn the the sun had not risen and stars still twinkled in the darkness. Eowyn followed his gaze.

“Tell me what you see.” he entreated.

“Stars. There are so many. But there is one that shines brighter than the others.” she answered.

“That belongs to me. It was born on the day I was conceived and to it my life force is bound.” He turned her around gently and they faced one another. “If you are ever lonely and if you ever think of me” just look to the star and you will find comfort in the knowledge that I too gaze upon it every night.”

With a last kiss upon her lips, he turned and left. Eowyn stood still for a long while, savouring the lingering sensation of the impression upon her lips. And then she ran. On and on she dashed past the many rooms, through the great hall and out into the open where thousands of men gathered. Legolas was on his horse. The battle cries rang out loud and clear. “To War! Forth Eorlingas!”

The trumpets sounded. The horses reared and neighed. Spears clashed on shield. Then the King raised his hand, and with a rush like the sudden onset of a great wind, the last host of Rohan rode thundering into the West and were gone sight. Legolas did not look back. And far over the plain, Eowyn saw the glitter of their armour and their weapons as she stood still, alone before the doors of the now silent house.

“Will I ever see you again?”

He never did answer that question.


	7. The Plains of Rohan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH, THREESOME, COMPLETE DEVIATION FROM CANON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written and completed a prequel (Little Elf), and it will be posted soon. :)

The sun rose, basking the rolling plain of Rohan in its golden splendor. The hoard of horsemen rode on; past the north-west foot- hills of the White Mountains following the beaten road up and down the green, crossing many swift streams and fords. Forty leagues they travelled without any rest, the Misty Mountains grew darker and taller as miles went by and still they did not stop - the need for haste drove them relentlessly onwards. 

Fearing to come too late, they rode with all the speed they could, pausing seldom for they hoped to reach the Fords of Isen by the next morn, to give aid to the king's men that held back the hosts of Saruman. The sun rose higher and then dipped towards the west. The evening came slowly but surely in their wake, darkening the horizons. It was only when night began to embrace the terrain and light was slowly extinguished by the setting of the sun did they, at last, halt to make their camp. The men had ridden all day and where far from Edoras, into the heart of the western plain, yet there was still more travelling to do the next day. 

In a great circle, under the starlit sky and the waxing moon, they set up their tents. They lit no fires for fear of being seen by their enemies but instead, sent out men on horses to guard those who rest. Scouts rode out far ahead, passing like shadows in the folds of the land. And the night began to crawl by. 

Legolas stood at the top of the hilly terrain, his back straight and his head thrown back towards the skies. The glow of the moon and stars bathed his face and his hair shone in the soft light. War was coming. He could sense the bleakness of the days ahead and the stars whispered to him of death and massacre and yet the message was vague. It was as if those stars sought to keep their secrets jealously. Someone would die. This much he knew. But who? 

"Legolas," said a voice. And the Elf knew, even without turning that it belonged to Aragorn. He had grown used to the Ranger's presence hovering near him like a shadow. Blue eyes turned towards the steel grey of the Man's. "What is it you are thinking of?" Aragorn murmured as he closed the distance between them. Legolas frowned thoughtfully as he turned his gaze back towards the night skies. 

"It is the stars. They have never kept secrets from me before. And yet now they reveal merely a hint of the dark times ahead. Great joy will dwell in the hearts of the Men of Rohan - and yet there will be great sorrow as well. I cannot understand this riddle." Legolas said, as the frown upon his brows deepened with confusion. The Man gave a fond smile as he reached out to toy with a lock of the Elf's hair. It was soft as silk and he brushed it across his own cheek. 

"Your worry will be for naught, Legolas. Have faith in the strength of the Men of Rohan! Have faith in me. I will not let sorrow touch you again. Too long have you been in despair. Perhaps after the war you will find hope and joy once more." said the Ranger tenderly as he gently turned the Elf to face him and wrapped his arms around the slender frame, burying his face into Legolas' smooth neck. When the Elf spoke, there was a smile in his voice. 

"Aye. I know that you will take care of me. I will never doubt that." he said as he tilted his head, allowing Aragorn to nibble on his pointed ear. Legolas sighed; his heart was at peace at least for the moment. The Ranger's tongue flicked lightly into the Elf's ear and his hands began their quest to explore the contours of the Elf's body and the firm globes of his rear. It was a journey he had taken many times before but every time, he found new things that excites him to no end. Like now, when he traced the cleft of the buttocks with his fingers, the Elf shivered and pressed closer against the Ranger, rubbing his hardening groin against Aragorn's. 

Their lips were inches apart from one another and would have met if not for a cry that sounded from the dark. The Elf's head whipped around towards the sound, his body tensing immediately. A horn blew in the depth of the night and there was a flurry of activity in the camp below. Aragorn's hand flew to his sword, but Legolas stayed his hand, his eyes bright with anticipation. 

"That is no Orc horn." he exclaimed and dashed down the steep slope towards a group of horse riders that were approaching their camp rapidly. The figure that led the troop sat tall and majestic upon a horse. The proud lines of his face and the silver hair that blew freely in the wind brought a smile upon Legolas' lips. Theoden got out of his tent at the slight commotion outside and when he saw the horse riders, his face took on a look of wonder and disbelief. 

"How could this be?" he murmured as the leader of the troop leapt nimbly from his horse and bowed low before the King. When he straightened again, there was a small smile upon his lips. "I bring word from Lord Elrond of Rivendell." said the tall rider. "It is his desire that we take part in this war. We came to honor his wishes and we are proud to fight alongside Men once more." And with that he turned towards Legolas who hovered near him and he smiled. 

"Haldir," came Legolas' whisper and their eyes met. And held. 

********** 

* Edoras * 

The lady wandered through the great hall, aimless. It was as if her heart was filled with a burden she could do nothing to dispel. Gone. 

Her love was gone as swiftly and as fleetingly as a hummingbird upon a flower. For long hours she sat in the dark, her face turned towards the heavens, searching for the signs that would only reveal but a rumour of her love's well-being. And always the stars showed the same thing. They dimmed in comparison to this lone star that shone so brightly, bringing tears to her eyes. And she found what little comfort she could in the knowledge that Legolas Greenleaf was alive and well. 

"My lady" murmured an attendant, her voice hesitant. It was as if she was reluctant to break the musings of her Lady Eowyn. Her eyes darted towards the untouched plate of food and a crease formed at her brows. Her Lady did nothing but pine for her love, taking no nourishment for the entire day that her lover was gone. Eowyn turned towards the doorway, her face sad and her eyes downcast. 

"What is it?" she said, her voice mirroring the expression on her fair face. 

"Forgive me, my lady. But there is a Man who wishes to speak with you." came the reply. Eowyn nodded her head and the attendant motioned someone into her room 

The Man entered the room and Eowyn felt as if she had known him from another time. Her eyes flickered to his face and took note of it. He was handsome, his face proud and sad at the same time and his hair - his hair was almost as gold her hers. Her heart pains her as she regarded this proud man so bent with grief. 

"My Lady, I came to ask you if you have seen a Ranger by the name of Aragorn. It is imperative that I find him for I need to speak to him." he said, his eyes fixed upon her in silent appeal. Eowyn tilted her head and looked at him almost tenderly as if she were looking upon the face of an old friend. Silently she walked towards him and stood in front of him. Lifting her fair hand, she reached out and gently stroked his hair, on her face sorrow dwelled and yet - it also carried an expression that was akin to affection. 

"You will find Lord Aragorn in the Fords of Isen, along with King Theoden's men, fighting their war." she whispered, her eyes never leaving the Man's. He then bowed low and turned to leave. But the Lady's voice called to him making him stop at the doorway. The Man turned around and stared at Eowyn. She stood tall, and the regal lines of her body spoke clearly of her breeding as a daughter of  
Kings. Yet she seemed to be cloaked in sorrow, her eyes dark with undefined emotions. 

"If you find them, go to my love. Go to my Legolas, for I know that he will be happy to look upon your face." she said, smiling at him. 

It was a sad smile. Beautiful; but sad and heart-wrenching at the same time. The Man frowned in confusion but said, "How will I know him my lady? How does he look like?" 

Eowyn turned to the skies once more. Dawn was approaching. She wanted to see the stars before they fade. The Man, taking her silence as dismissal turned once more but her voice, quiet and sad made him turn around again. "You will know my Legolas when you see him for his beauty shines brighter than all the stars in the sky." 

He continued to stare at her and when she did not turn back, he walked away. 

And up above, the star shone brightly still. 

********** 

* The Plains of Rohan * 

Hot were the lips upon his neck. Legolas closed his eyes and bit back a moan, his head unconsciously tilting backwards to give his lover more access to the soft skin there. A firm tongue darted out, tasting his flesh and Legolas shivered in reaction, his senses reeling with the sensations that were evoked. It was only when those determined hands reached between their bodies and settled upon the growing bulge in his leggings that he shook his head in a feeble attempt at denial. 

"Nay, Haldir. We must not do this." he gritted out as the larger Elf eagerly sucked and licked the exposed column of Legolas' neck; his rising passion was like a storm - it cannot be controlled or stopped. 

Despite his protests, his body belied his words as his hips moved in time to the irresistible rhythm of Haldir's caresses. 

"Hush, Little Elf. Let me ease your pain." Haldir whispered and Legolas closed his eyes at the memory that the name brought about. Little Elf: a term ofendearment given to him in his youth by someone who meant the world to him. The pain at such memory burned in his heart like a raging fire. 

"Nay, Haldir" he said, his voice stronger now, more determined; his eyes were glazed as if he were thinking on a distant past. Haldir's face softened with pity as he saw the familiar look upon the fair elven face. It was a look he had seen so many centuries ago and it was the last thing that he wanted to see upon Legolas' face now. Haldir cupped those soft cheeks and turned the face towards his. 

"Do you not remember a time, long ago in Rivendell? You were frightened, so torn by your grief and loss. You would not eat, you would not speak and the only sounds you made were the sounds of your tears." he murmured as Legolas trembled with emotions that he held tightly in check. 

There was silence but Haldir was patient, his hand ran soothingly up and down the tense back as he sat next to Legolas. "Yes," came the choked reply. "I remember." Haldir ran a finger down from the smaller Elf's chest to the junction between Legolas' thighs. The Elf shuddered at the sensation and his hips flexed involuntarily, his arms reaching out to grab Haldir's strong shoulders as he cried out softly with his need. 

"Do you not remember that I came to you that night," Haldir continued, now massaging the source of Legolas' desire with his hands, stroking the tension away from the lithe body. "I came to you Legolas, and with only my hands, I did what the others could not. I chased away your troubles and turned your cries of sorrow into that of pleasure," he murmured. 

Legolas' chest heaved with every breath he took, his hips now bucking frantically beneath Haldir's sensuous assault. And he did remember then, centuries ago when he thought that all that was worth living for had been destroyed and he had retreated into a shell, willing himself to fade into the darkness of his thoughts. Haldir had come to him and he had taught him the wonders of the flesh and how such pleasure could chase away even the darkest of misery. 

And so he nodded his head, not trusting himself enough to speak; blue eyes that were awash with tears looked into the sad grey ones of Haldir's. "Then tell me, what I can do to sooth the pain of your loss? I can see in your eyes; it is the same expression that you had back then. If you cannot find it in your heart to love again, at least share the burdens of your sorrow with an old friend. Do not deny me this, Little Elf, for the sake of our friendship." Haldir whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. And Legolas cried then, tears flowing freely as it had never done before and he covered his face, weeping into his hands. 

"I deny you nothing Haldir, but my heart pains me greatly. Everyday I try my hardest to forget but I cannot." he murmured and it was as if a dam had been broken as for the first time, he poured out all his troubles. "Boromir. My Beloved. I wish with all my heart and soul that he was with me again! What w I n I not give to look upon his face once more! When he died, a part of me died with him. No longer could I feel love and that pains me because I fear I have caused grief to those who have given their hearts to me." 

He lowered his hands then, and turned his eyes towards the bracelet upon his wrist. "Aragorn loves me and I know his love is true. But I cannot feel the same way! When he kissed me upon my lips, I pretend that `tis Boromir's upon mine. When we make love, I pretend that it is Boromir's hands upon my flesh. Who can suppose or even guess at the anguish and sorrow that dwells in my heart? I do not wish to hurt anyone! And so I gave myself to him, allowing him to believe that I might have some feelings for him, when all the while it is another name that I yearn to cry out." 

Legolas brought his knees to his chest and began to rock to and fro and Haldir despaired for it brought back the memory of Legolas so long ago, wretched and miserable. "And Eowyn. Beautiful, sweet Eowyn. How I wish she had never laid eyes upon me! I took her, Haldir, and I left her without even looking back. How she trembled when I pressed my lips upon hers in a gesture of farewell! But I said naught to ease her sorrow; so overwhelmed was I in my own grief that I took no notice of hers." 

There was a long silence and Haldir still sat next to the Elf who was on the verge of shattering in his own grief. Tenderly, he stroked Legolas' hair and when the Elf chance to speak again, his voice was devoid of emotion. "The Little Elf you knew is no longer here, Haldir. He is lost, and perhaps gone forever. I know not. Look at what he has become!" he said with a bitter laugh. "But have no fear! Perhaps I have made another replica of myself when I planted my seed in Eowyn's womb! Another Elfling to take after me. Another Elfling to bring disgrace to his own kind. Like I have. Like I always did." 

Haldir pressed a finger to those trembling lips, his heart crying out for his friend. "Hush! Do not speak of such things. The Little Elf I knew is not lost for he is here with me, sharing the burden of his troubles with his old friend. He bears the weight of the world upon his shoulders and yet he still stands tall and proud; a Warrior Elf. Just as how your mother said you would be." And Legolas shuddered at the mention of his mother and the memory that came with it, his eyes closing to hide the anguish in them. 

"Leave me be, Haldir. I do not deserve you. I do not deserve anyone." he choked out and turned his face away from his friend. But Haldir grabbed hold of his chin, gently but firmly bringing Legolas' gaze back towards his. 

"Do you not trust me?" he said, his voice barely audible, his grey eyes intense. Legolas hesitated and then nodded his head. "Then let me do this for you. Trust me as you once did with your pain - and your pleasure." 

And Legolas gave in. Surrendering to Haldir's caresses, he moaned aloud, his body quickly responding to the feel of Haldir's hands upon him. His clothes were stripped off his body in a whisper, and he lay down upon the ground, naked and shivering under the scrutiny of his friend. 

"You are so beautiful, Little Elf. Look at how perfect you are! Can you not feel your own strength?" Haldir murmured as he took hold of the Elf's hands and wrapped it around Legolas' hardening arousal. 

Haldir's hand covered Legolas' and slowly, he guided the Elf into stroking himself. Legolas mouth parted as he took in great breaths and watched through lowered lids as Haldir helped him pleasure himself. 

Up and down went the hand, gently and teasingly, and it was not long before Legolas writhed with the pleasure he evoked upon his own body and Haldir's eyes darken with passion at the sight of his friend submitting to his own touch. A choked groan told him that Legolas was close to the edge, and swiftly, he withdrew his hand, ignoring the cry of dismay that the smaller Elf gave at the loss. 

Haldir removed his own clothes; his eyes fixed upon Legolas' and he took pleasure at the sight of the Elf's blue eyes darkening with desire, his pink tongue darting out to moisten his lips. With a soft sigh, Haldir slid himself along the length of the quivering body and the contact of flesh against flesh made both Elves tremble with the sensations it brought about. 

Haldir bent down to kiss Legolas, his tongue stabbing into the sweet mouth as his hand reached between them to grab hold of Legolas' straining erection. And he stroked it. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until those slim hips trashed around desperately. When Legolas thought that he could stand no more of the exquisite torture, Haldir dragged his lips down from Legolas' lips to his throat before pausing at his navel. His tongue lashed out, delving in the hollow of the navel and then, it continued on its journey towards Legolas' source of desire. 

The moment Haldir's hot mouth covered the head of his member; Legolas cried out, his eyes clenched shut, as breabreath hitched in his lungs when Haldir proceeded to draw him deep into his mouth. The moonlight framed the larger Elf, and for a moment, Legolas' heart constricted at Haldir's wild and untamed beauty, his hair shining like silver in the soft light. But all thoughts left him when Haldir began to hum, the action sending awash waves and waves of pleasure over his shaft and thighs. He could have cried out then, letting the world know of the pleasure that he got from Haldir. But firm lips covered his in a searing kiss, robbing him of his voice. 

It was as if he were floating upon a raging sea of passion. The mouth upon his took him in every angle, as if it wanted to devour his lips whole, and the tongue upon his erection lapped maddeningly at the length…

Legolas' eyes flew open and stared straight into the steel-blue depths of Aragorn's. The Ranger was naked. He gave a startled cry and made to sit up but the Ranger would not allow him to. 

"Calm down. Let us love you, Legolas." he said, his voice rough with emotion and in his eyes, all the love for the Elf was laid bare for him to see. And love him they did as they took turns in pleasuring Legolas. When Aragorn bent down to lick the weeping erection, Haldir's tongue circled Legolas' nipples, his teeth lightly nipping the tight buds. When Haldir pushed his member into Legolas' opening,  
Aragorn reached down to stroke the Elf towards the brink of his pleasure. 

Finally, it was all too much for them. Their breathing was ragged and the air was heavily scented with their arousal. Aragorn got to his knees and bent forward on all fours. "Take me, Legolas," he gasped and with that, the Elf slid into wet warmth, his mouth was parted and on his face was the expression of intense pleasure.  
Haldir pushed Legolas forward so that the Elf was leaning upon Aragorn and he took the Elf from behind. 

And they paused for a moment, their breathing heavy and their need grew stronger with every passing moment. Haldir was the one who moved first. He flexed his hips experimentally and Aragorn groaned when Legolas' member touched the sensitive spot in his body. Slowly, Haldir pressed in and out of Legolas, eliciting a choked cry from the Elf. Legolas threw back his head and when Haldir claimed his lips in a possessive kiss, his nails dug into Aragorn's buttocks. 

Haldir thrust his hips back and forth; the force of it rocked both Legolas and Aragorn at the same time. It was sheer ecstasy. Harder and faster the Elf pumped into Legolas, enjoying the keening moans of both the Ranger and Legolas. Aragorn was beside himself in his passion. He tossed his head back and Legolas kissed him desperately, the Elf's hands roaming freely around the Man's body, stroking his hot shaft and then moving to pinch his nipples. 

"Haldir, please. Harder" Aragorn gritted out, his body trembling as he reached closer and closer to the apex of his desire. Legolas said naught but gasped at the onslaught to his senses, his own climax within his grasps as he gave in to the erotic sensations of taking the Ranger and being taken by Haldir. 

Haldir complied, riding both males towards their fulfilment, striving to attain the pinnacle of his satisfaction. And then it happened. Not one of them knew who was first and no one really cared. But one of them cried out, his voice rang loud and clear and it triggered a chain reaction as heat burst from their loins almost simultaneously. And at last, knees trembling from the force of their climax, they slid to the ground. 

Legolas lay in the middle, his right hand holding onto Haldir's and his left hand, on the Ranger's. They said nothing for the longest period of time for words were not enough to describe the love both Haldir and Aragorn had for Legolas. It was an emotion that transcends everything else; this incredible sense of bliss and completion that they have in the arms of this one Elf. 

But dawn drew closer and the soldiers stirred in their tents. Legolas was the first to get dressed, his eyes were downcast and his brows furrowed with his thoughts. He gnawed upon his lips as his eyes darted uneasily towards the fading stars. Haldir observed him, but said nothing. 

"I will go first. They must not know that we spent the night together." Legolas said and he strode off down the steep slope on top of which they had made love. Aragorn's eyes followed the Elf, his face sad. 

"He will never belong to you, Ranger," came Haldir's voice. But it held neither malice nor arrogance. He just stated it as if it were a fact. Aragorn looked into those grey eyes. They held the same expression that the Ranger had. "He will never belong to either of us." Aragorn said. Haldir turned his face away, his eyes lowered. There was nothing else to say but the haunted look in the eyes of the Elf was telling enough, because they both knew that truer words have never been spoken. 

********** 

*At the foot of the Misty Mountains* 

The army of Rohan thundered on towards their destination and now, they stood very near on the northernmost arm of the White Mountains. The land was bathed in the blood-red tint of the setting sun and in the distance; they saw a lone rider, moving towards them. They halted, awaiting him. He was one of the King's subjects. And when he spoke, his voice was weary and his tone bleak. 

"Hail to thee, my lord. You have come at last but I fear that you came too late. Things have gone evilly in your absence and we were driven back yesterday over the Isen with great loss. We are overmastered. The shield wall was broken. Our captain has drawn off those men he could gather towards the sanctuary of Helm's Deep. The rest are scattered. There is no hope left. Flee while you can!" 

"Nay," said Gandalf, "Ride on Theoden! Ride to Helm's Deep and do not go to the Fords of Isen. Do not tarry in the plain. I must leave you now for Shadowfax must bear me on a swift errand." And with a whispered word to the horse, they sprang away, the horse glinting like silver in the darkening skies. 

The Riders rode on through the night until they were within sight of the Gates of Helm's Deep. The scouts around them sounded their alarms, their cries and horn blasts ringing in the night air. Out of the darkness arrows whistled. The enemy had drawn closer. 

********** 

* Helm's Deep * 

It was night and the moon was overshadowed by dark clouds. The sky was dark and foreboding, and the atmosphere was tense. Legolas stood on the Deepening Wall along with the Elven archers from Lothlorien, Haldir next to him. Adrenalin rushed through his veins as they stared at the spectacle below. The ground seemed to bubble with moving black shapes; some were squat and broad and some were tall and grim. But all held the same horrible expression of murder in those ruthless eyes. It was an army of Orcs bred for the sole purpose of wiping out all those who opposed them. 

The trumpets sounded. And so it began. 

The enemy surged forward by the thousands, some crashing towards the  
Deepening Wall, and others towards the causeway and ramp that let up to the gates of the Hornburg. Legolas let lose arrow after arrow, following Haldir's command. But when he felled one, ten more seemed to take its place. The opposition was fierce as a storm of Orc arrows met them, their black tips finding its way into mortal and Elven flesh. 

Aragorn's sword flashed together with Eomer's as they defended the gates to the Hornburg, which had been assaulted by Orcs carrying rams, determined to break into the keep. The fierceness of their defense dismayed their enemies and one by one they were slaughtered, their bodies falling into the stony stream below the ramp. 

The night wore on and yet the enemy had shown no signs of retreat. The assault upon the gates was redoubled and against the Deepening Wall the hosts of Isengard roared like a tempest. Ropes with grappling hooks were hurled over the walls faster than Men could cut them and hundreds of long ladders were lifted up. Although the Elves' well-placed arrows managed to fell many, hundreds more replaced them and the Orcs sprang up like apes in the forests of the North. 

The Men of Rohan grew weary and the Elves' arrows were nearly spent. 

Haldir had took to his sword, slashing and beheading the foul creatures and Legolas' white knives made quick work of those to were foolish enough to threaten him. But the Orcs had more in store for the Men of Rohan. 

The first blast was tremendous as flame and smokse use up in the air. The waters of the stream poured out: a gaping hole had been blasted into the wall. The force of the explosion threw the Elven archers into the air and when they fell to the ground, they never got up again. Rocks rained down upon them, some of which sliced Legolas' cheek open. And the enemy poured into the heart of Helm's  
Deep. 

Death and massacre. The stars have hinted at them. But nothing could prepare Legolas for the sight that greeted him. Bodies lay strewn upon the floor, and the stream seemed to flow with blood, not water. Thunder crashed in the skies and rain lashed down mercilessly, stinging his eyes. And a rage that he had never known surged through his blood. 

"Elbereth Gilthoniel!" he cried, his knives darting out, mimicking the flashes of lightning that grazed the brightening skies. There were so many of them but his heart knew not of the word `despair'. Dozens he felled to the ground, his eyes blazing with a blue fire that was so terrible that several of the enemies actually stepped back before launching themselves at him once more. 

And then he chanced to turn around. His heart nearly stopped. Haldir was swamped by dozens of Orcs. The Elf fought bravely but even to the untrained eye that looked upon him, they would see that Haldir could not hold off their assault for long. Legolas started to scream a warning whe saw saw the first thrust of a sword to Haldir's side. But when steel met flesh, the warning died upon his lips. Haldir fell to his knees. 

His scream rang out loud, filled with rage and pain. He fought desperately towards his friend, memories of Boromir flashed in his fevered mind. He would not allow himself to be helpless when Haldir needed him. He could not bear to have history repeat itself. And so he fought, carving his way through the endless stream of Orcs; his mind numb to pain and fatigue. The slice of the blade in his upper arm went by unnoticed. He was close now. So close to Haldir… 

"Khazad! Khazad!" shouted a voice as a stout figure crashed into the wall of Orcs that sought to drive Legolas away from Haldir. It was Gimli and he bravely fought off the crowd. "Look to the Elf, Legolas! Get him into the Keep!" he cried as Legolas wrapped his arms around Haldir. The Elf was still breathing, but just barely.

The great horn of Helm suddenly rang out, eliciting a cry of dismay from the enemy. Back from the Deep the echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald stood. And on the walls, men and elves looked up, listening with wonder, for the echoes did not die. Ever the sound wound on among the hills, blowing fierce and free. Helm's Deep had arisen. 

"Helm! Helm!" the Riders shouted, "Helm for Theoden King!" And with that shout, the king came on his white horse, flanked by Aragorn and Eomer. Light had now sprung in the sky; night had departed. 

"Forth Eorlingas!" came the cry and with a roar the King and his men charged out of the Gates. The enemy screamed in despair at the renewed assault, their eyes wild with fear as the King's men streamed down from Helm's Gate. It was in vain that they tried to crawl out of the way for the spear of the King was sharp and found its mark in the throats of his Enemy. 

Then suddenly upon a ridge appeared a rider, clad in white, shining in the rising sun. Over the low hills before them, the horns were sounding. Behind him, hastening down the long slopes were a thousand men on foot from Westfold. 

"Gandalf! Behold the White Rider!" cried Aragorn, "Gandalf is come again!" 

The hosts of Isengard roared, their minds maddened with fear as they faced multiple assaults of Men and Elves from Helm's Gate, the Westfold men from the hills and the White Rider on Shadowfax. The Orcs shrieked and cast aside both sword and spear. And like smoke blown by the mounting wind, they fled into the shadows and never show their faces ever again in those lands. 

Victory was theirs as cheers rang out through the air. Great was the joy that dwelt in their hearts. And on top of the Deepening Wall, two elves lay upon the cold floor, side by side. They were motionless. 

********** 

The air was filled with tension. Aragorn and Gimli stood by the Elf, their faces grim with worry as they looked upon Haldir. He had been laid upon a bed in a room, and Eomer bent over the still figure, tending to the wound that had been inflicted. When he looked up at them, his eyes held his misgivings. 

"It is a deep wound, Aragorn. I know nothing of Elves but this would have easily killed a man." he murmured as he peered down into the pale face that was still lovely and proud despite the hurt he had received. The Elf's breath was shallow and his eyes were glazed with pain. "There is nothing we can do for the moment. We will have to wait and see how fast he mends." 

They left Haldir in the care of the healers and strode rapidly towards the next room. They opened the door and saw the slight figure upon the bed and Aragorn's heart wept at the sight of Legolas. The Elf lay naked from waist up, his injured arm was bound. His body was smeared with Haldir's blood and his own. He was not moving and his breath seemed to be as shallow as Haldir's had been. 

The Elf's eyes were closed as if he were weary. 

"I saw him take nothing but a scratch upon his shoulder," muttered Gimli, "He cannot be hurt much." Aragorn approached the bed and started to examine the Elf. The slight wound on his shoulder had healed. There seemed to be nothing wrong with him - other than the fact that the area surrounding the wound had turned black. And Aragorn felt his heart crack within his breast. 

"Poisoned." he choked out, as he ran his hand up and down Legolas' chest in an attempt to soothe its shuddering movements. Gimli's eyes met his in horror. "We cannot give him the same medicine. It will kill him." said Gimli, his eyes reflecting the grief he carried in his own heart. "He will have to fight it on his own." And Aragorn wept silently, his shoulders shaking in grief. Eomer rested his hand upon the heaving shoulder in comfort. 

"Have faith in him. I have seen him fight upon the Wall and I know that he is made of sterner stuff than he seem. Perhaps he will get through the night and will recover soon enough. The Men have received similar hurt and many have resisted the poison. Perhaps Legolas will do the same this night." Eomer said but Aragorn was not comforted. 

He stayed with Legolas well into the night and Gimli stayed with Haldir. The Elf had turned cold and the familiar twitching of his limbs was like a knife being twisted into the Ranger's own heart. "You must fight it, Legolas." he murmured over and over again as he clasped one cold hand in his, kissing the frigid fingers.  
Legolas' head trashed weakly on the pillows and Aragorn brush his other hand across the Elf's brow as if trying to absorb some of the pain himself. 

"Aragorn," came the voice at the doorway. It was Eomer. "The King wishes to speak to you." Aragorn looked at him in dismay for he did not want to leave Legolas' side but he knew that he could not refuse the King. Reluctance was evident in every line of his body as he dragged himself away from Legolas' side. He stepped out into the hallway and there he saw another Man. Those proud features were different and yet similar to a face he once knew. 

"He came to see you, Aragorn. But he must wait. You must speak to the King first," said Eomer as he gestured towards the Man. Aragorn looked at the tall silent figure before him and then clasped his shoulder. "Look after the Elf. Look after Legolas until I return." he said, and he walked off, his heart heavy. 

The Man watched Eomer and Aragorn walking away. He then entered the room and moved towards the right side of the bed. Legolas. The one whose beauty shines brighter than the stars above - or so the Lady of Rohan had said when he had last met her. Upon reaching the edge of the bed he peered down into the face and could not help but suck in his breath. The Elf was beautiful. His chiselled features were proud and his eyelashes were long and curled slightly. He reached out a hand to touch the Elf's brow. And those eyes opened. Blue they were, as blue as the skies in the summer. 

"Legolas," the Man whispered into the Elf's ear, testing the sound of the name upon his tongue. Legolas eyes cleared suddenly and his piercing gaze snapped towards the Man. The look he fixed upon the  
Man was intense and it was filled with a strange mixture of emotions, the Man thought. Disbelief, sorrow, unbearable joy and an expression that he had seen upon the Lady's face - it was as if he were looking upon he face of one he had so dearly missed. 

Legolas' hand lifted to caress the Man's face but he was too weak. His breathing became more rapid as he fought to squeeze words out from his lips. The Man helped the Elf; his expression was one of awe as he held the cold hand against his cheek. There was something so poignant and sad in those blue eyes that the Man felt a lump of emotion forming in his throat. 

Those lips worked once more, desperate to say something. Legolas' eyes looked deep into his and the Man bent closer towards the Elf, straining to hear the words that should slip out from his lips. And then he heard it. It was soft, the word riding lightly upon a sigh. 

But he heard it and was stunned. 

"Beloved." 

That was what the Elf called him. 

********** 

Beloved. The word rang through the dark recess of Haldir's mind and he cried out with the sheer agony of it. `Legolas,' came the disjointed thought. His back arched painfully and he was barely aware of the dwarf's attempt at restraining him. He trashed around for a short while; just a short while, before his breath left him in a low hiss. And then he was silent. 

He never moved again. 

********** 

Beloved. The word echoed in the lonely halls and Eowyn lifted her head from her pillow, her eyes wide. `Legolas,' she thought. She got up from her bed and dashed to the room that her love had once occupied when he was at Edoras. She threw open the door, rushed to the balcony and looked up into the skies. And when she did, a cry of despair escaped her lips and she sank onto the cold floor, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she wept. 

Gone. Her love was gone as swiftly and as fleetingly as a humming bird upon a flower. Legolas' star had dimmed before her very eyes; and then the light of the star had gone out. He was dead. 

********** 

Aragorn ran towards Legolas' bedchamber, the whispered endearment still somehow branded into his mind. He pushed the door open, his eyes wild and his breathing ragged. His eyes flew towards the figure next to Legolas and saw that those shoulders were bent with grief. 

Faramir turned towards the door, his green eyes fixed upon the Ranger's. "He is gone," he murmured, his hand still holding onto Legolas as if he could not bear to let him go. His eyes fell upon the bracelet that the Elf had worn around his wrist. Carefully he undid the knot and held it near a candle. The hair was the exact same shade as the Man of Gondor's. 

"This is a lock of my brother's hair," he said, his eyes lowered in his grief. "So it is true then, that Boromir is dead." Aragorn said nothing but knelt by Legolas' bed and Faramir joined him. Together they bowed their heads in a final act of respect for Legolas Greenleaf, the Warrior Elf of Mirkwood. 

Epilogue 

The sun was warm and yet the breeze that blew through the trees was cool. He stood in the midst of the lush greenery, lost in the beauty that engulfed his senses. He stood for a long time before he felt someone's gaze upon him. He turned around and looked at the Elf standing near him; his back straight and his head held high. There was a small smile upon his lips. 

"Go to him. He is waiting for you," said the Elf as he gestured towards a clearing in the midst of the woods. And so he did, walking as if he were in a dream; walking towards that lone figure sitting upon a rock. It brought back the memory of their first time together, long ago in the woods. He must have made some noise, perhaps a sharp intake of breath or perhaps even a sob of gladness for the figure turned to him and slid down from his perch. His handsome face glowed with love; his green eyes did not hold the haunted look he had back then. 

"Ne ab-dollen," he said, a smile playing upon the corners of his lips. 

"I did not know you could speak Elvish." 

"When you are here long enough, you are bound to pick up a word or two," came the candid reply and Legolas closed the distance between them, enfolding the Man in a tight embrace. Warm lips covered his and his heart sang with joy. 

"I love you, Legolas," Boromir whispered, his arms never letting go of the Elf. He whispered it over and over again, as if making up for the lost time. But they need not worry for they have all eternity to exchange the words and declaration of love to one another. And in the distance, Haldir looked upon the lovers, shaking his head in wonder and at the same time marvelling at the extent of their bond. 

It must be a union ordained by the Gods indeed; for a mere Mortal to have found his place next to his love in this Kingdom of Elves. 

And so they lingered on through the Ages; never knowing sorrow or anguish again as they walked together, side by side, in a world where dreamers and lovers frequent. 

May we all find a love as beautiful and everlasting as theirs.


End file.
